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MY DITTY BAG 






















CAPTAIN JACOB B. BROWN 
A Typical Ship Master 





• MY 

DITTY-BAG 

BY 

Charles W. Brown 



Boston 

Small,Maynard and Company 
Publishers 












Foreword 


On a pleasant Sunday afternoon, sailing 
through the trade winds, it was customary 
for sailors to take their old chests out of the 
forecastle, air and repair their clothes, and have 
a general housecleaning of what was probably 
all of their earthly possessions, contained in 
their battered old chests of teak, camphorwood 
or good pine boards, that showed the scars of 
age. 

In every chest was to be found a “ditty bag,” 
containing their more valued and more portable 
treasures—a Testament from home, cowries 
from Sydney, pearl shell from the South Seas, 
an ornamented whale’s tooth, coins, stamps, 
needles and thread, yarn, photographs of a best 
girl, Roman ribbon from Naples, and such a 
heterogeneous collection of odds and ends as 
was rarely seen in so small a space. 

Similarly from my recollections of many years 
ago I overhaul my mental “Ditty Bag,” and pro¬ 
duce some offerings of olden days that may pos¬ 
sibly interest the present generation. 

vii 


viii FOREWORD 

I am indebted to the editors of The Atlantic 
Monthly for permission to republish an article 
I wrote on our “Un-Mercantile Marine,” which 
appeared originally in The Atlantic Monthly. 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 


I. 

The Master Mariners .... 

1 

II. 

More Mariners . . . 

10 

III. 

Captains and Sailors .... 

20 

IV. 

Mutiny. 

28 

V. 

Fishy. 

35 

VI. 

Cooperation Aided Greatly in the Suc¬ 
cess and Development of Our Old 
Mercantile Marine .... 

47 

VII. 

Sea Habits, Customs and Yarns . 

54 

VIII. 

Shanghaied Sailors .... 

65 

IX. 

China and the Chinese .... 

75 

X. 

Krakatoa. 

92 

XI. 

Amboyna. 

99 

XII. 

The Girls and the Sailors . 

109 

XIII. 

Shipwreck. 

122 

XIV. 

Personalities or Personal Recollections 

134 

XV. 

Recollections Continued 
ix 

145 




X 


CONTENTS 


XVI. President McKinley, Secretaries Mel¬ 
lon and Hitchcock, Jim Hill, Mel- 



ville Stone, Tom Lowry . 

153 

XVII. 

The Spanish Americans 

165 

XVIII. 

Chili, Buenos Aires and Brazil . 

174 

XIX. 

Why We Cannot Have a Mercantile 
Marine as We Had Fifty Years Ago 

184 

XX. 

Again Around the World . 

208 

XXI. 

Cruise Continued. 

216 

XXII. 

Japan and the Japanese 

222 

XXIII. 

Forty Years After. 

233 

XXIV. 

Filipinos and Prohibition . 

240 

XXV. 

The Hindus as They Seem to an Ordi¬ 
nary Traveler. 

248 

XXVI. 

Cruise Letters Continued 

263 

XXVII. 

Delhi, Agra and Bombay . 

270 

XXVIII. 

Cairo and the Egyptians 

276 





Illustrations 


PAGE 


Captain Jacob B. Brown 

A Typical Ship Master Frontispiece 

The Sunda Straits: Anjer Hill from the Northwest 96 


xi 


MY DITTY BAG 








MY DITTY BAG 
I 

The Master Mariners 



IFTY years ago, in the sea¬ 
port towns of New Eng¬ 
land, the title of Master 
Mariner was more honored 
than any degree conferred 
by college or other educa¬ 
tional institution. As evi¬ 
dence of the importance of 
mariners at that period it 
is interesting to note the inscription on a statue 
in the City Hall Grounds at Philadelphia— 
“Stephen Girard, Mariner and Merchant.” 


l 













2 


MY DITTY BAG 


The feeling of admiration for successful sea¬ 
men was inspired at an early age. Saturday 
afternoon was a holiday, and the boys saw the 
large ships building for the foreign trade. They 
eagerly followed the launching, the placing of 
the masts and yards; the proper rigging was a 
source of study and interest, and the boy who 
had put his hat on the royalmast pole had 
earned the respect of his companions. A famil¬ 
iarity with ships and sailors was natural to any 
boy brought up on the seacoast. 

On the “Sabbath” the enthusiasm for the sea 
and sea captains increased rather than dimin¬ 
ished. The richest men, the most influential 
men, and the men who had the best pews in the 
broad aisle, were Master Mariners, or their 
necessary cooperators, the ship-owners and 
ship-builders. As the organist played the “vol¬ 
untary” before the solemn service began, we 
boys would glance furtively around the high 
old-fashioned pews and see the various captains 
we had heard of, and watch their entrance as 
though they were great celebrities from the out¬ 
side world. 

One old captain excited my particular admira¬ 
tion. Scant gray side whiskers he had, close 


THE MASTER MARINERS 


3 


cut; shoulders like Samson’s. His build was 
square, and he walked firm and erect. His 
arms were as thick as a stunsail yard; mouth 
large, lips thin and close together, and the entire 
face indicating power and firmness. Sunday 
he walked down the church aisle slowly, majesti¬ 
cally; his feet encased in thick boots, bladder 
lined, kept flexible by a specially prepared com¬ 
bination of mutton tallow and black lead, and 
carefully polished for the occasion. Few of this 
generation can conceive the work required to 
shine those boots. He wore English black 
broadcloth, made up abroad—it being his stand¬ 
ard “Sabbath” garb, and so long as his suit 
kept clean and neat he gave no attention to 
fleeting fashions. He always carried a massive 
gold-headed cane, presented to him by the 
underwriters for bringing home safely, under 
jury masts, his dismasted ship. In his other 
hand he carried a carefully brushed and 
smoothed bell-top hat—perhaps the vintage of 
ten years past, but no self-respecting captain 
failed to buy a tall hat when first appointed to 
take charge of a ship; and unless in case of fire, 
wreck, moth or rust, the hat was retained and 
classed like his good ship—A-l at Lloyd’s for fif¬ 
teen years. 


4 


MY DITTY BAG 


Arrived at his pew door he prepared to make 
a good landing. Removing his overcoat, with 
the same care and dignity that he would have 
required when lowering the topsail yards, he 
would glance astern and aloft, as though he 
wished to make sure that the choir was safe in 
the gallery; then with a reverent, although not 
a deferential, air he would look at the pastor in 
the high pulpit, and settle himself at the end of 
the pew, alert, attentive, stiff as a statue, mind¬ 
ful of all the churchly forms, and a sincere and 
respectful worshiper. To me, in my boyhood 
days, this captain inspired hardly less awe than 
the Creator. I could conceive of no more pow¬ 
erful and majestic earthly image. 

Having gratified my admiration by gazing at 
my particular hero, and letting my imagination 
run riot in thinking of his great adventures, I 
could vary my thoughts by contemplating the 
captain sitting near by, who had made his for¬ 
tune in the Mobile trade when freights were one 
penny per pound for cotton, but he did not seem 
as interesting and romantic as the bronzed and 
bearded captain in an adjoining pew, who had 
always voyaged to China and the East Indies. 
That quiet, modest, fine-looking old gentleman 


THE MASTER MARINERS 


5 


had the reputation of being an awful fighter, 
and was supposed to be able to lick anybody 
who sailed the Western Ocean. It was reported 
that he measured forty-eight inches around his 
chest, and few could withstand a blow from his 
hard clenched fist; but his fingers were relaxed 
over the back of the pew, and he looked gentle 
and meek despite his dread reputation. 

In the side aisle was another fighter. His 
head and face were badly scarred as the result 
of a row he had had when second mate, when, 
though stabbed and cut, he had turned out of 
the forecastle a refractory watch, and wielded 
a heaver with such force and effect that several 
men were unable to work for weeks. And that 
quiet little brown man sitting yonder, so devout. 
Could it really be he who had shot two sailors 
on his last voyage around Cape Horn to the 
Chinchas, when they refused to work longer at 
the pumps and tried to mutiny and desert the 
ship? 

Another captain always joked with us boys, 
and gave us money when we met him, but 
somehow, while we liked him, we regarded him 
as one who had needlessly relaxed his dignity. 

One Sunday we heard that handsome Captain 


6 


MY DITTY BAG 


Ned Graves, kind and courtly, but with a look 
that always commanded attention and respect, 
had been lost off Mauritius in a hurricane, and 
his ship, the Tennyson , crew, cargo and all, sunk 
in the fathomless depths of the Indian Ocean. 
The simple and heartfelt prayers offered by our 
pastor after hearing of this disaster have been 
remembered by me these many years. 

Now all of these captains have taken their 
last cruise. Their pews are unfilled in the old 
church; successors they have none. They never 
can have under new and modern conditions. 
They were men —bold, brave, honest, adven¬ 
turous—men who did something, who made 
their mark on their generation, who acquired a 
vast fund of practical knowledge from hard 
experience, diligent study, and travel all over 
the world. Comparing my boyish ideals with 
Charlie Chaplin, Jack Dempsey, and rich, un¬ 
principled speculators of the present day (about 
whom, I suppose, boys now talk) overcome by 
money-madness and greed, it seems to me the 
old Master Mariners stand well by comparison. 

The love of adventure, prompt action, and 
quick decision was implanted at an early age in 
these young mariners. As an illustration of this 


THE MASTER MARINERS 


7 


I quote from the Boston Olive Branch , of Oc¬ 
tober 12, 1850, as follows: 

“A friend of ours has a sailor brother, a lad of 
some fifteen years of age. From what we hear 
of his feats, we should judge he was destined to 
push his way along as a man among men. One 
of these feats was the following: On a recent 
voyage from Wales to New York a favorite cat 
belonging to the captain of the ship fell into 
the ocean. The vessel was out of sight of land 
at the time, and the wind blowing what the 
sailors call a ‘stiff breeze.’ At the moment the 
cat reached the water, and was struggling for 
dear life, the young seaman leaped over the 
taffrail, and plunged at once into the ‘deep, 
deep sea’! He soon appeared on the surface of 
the waves with poor pussy in his bosom, and 
before the captain could launch a boat or throw 
him a life-buoy he had reached a rope that was 
lowered to him from the ship (that in the mean¬ 
time had ‘rounded to’), and was tripping safely 
over the deck. ‘Why!’ exclaimed the captain, 
recovering from his astonishment, as he gazed 
on the dripping sailor-boy, who still held the 
panting cat in his arms, ‘Why, what did you jump 
overboard in that way for?’ ‘I jumped to save 


8 


MY DITTY BAG 


the cat, Captain/ answered the brave lad; ‘1 
thought she was too good a puss to be lost.’ 
‘Well/ said the captain, ‘go change your clothes. 
You are “bound to put it through” this world 
if anybody can.’ 

“A few days after the same lad was on the 
foretopsail yard, engaged at work, when the 
topgallant mast was suddenly carried away. As 
he saw the wreckage going down toward him 
the hardy fellow made a second leap, cleared 
the ship’s side, and bounded again into the 
waves. In a moment he arose from the water 
like a leaping fish, and as the vessel came up to 
the wind he caught another rope, and was once 
more safely on deck. 

“What a feat! But by leaping into the sea the 
boy escaped being crushed by the falling spars 
on the vessel, and probably saved his life. It 
was as cool in calculation as it was brave in the 
act. 

“The captain said again, ‘Well, my boy, what 
now? Are you hurt?’ ‘Not a bit, sir! How 
could I swim if I had been? I’m ship-shape 
and sailor fashion.’ 

“ ‘Yes, I see you are—and it’s my opinion you 
will keep so through life.’ 


THE MASTER MARINERS 


9 


“We are of the same opinion with the cap¬ 
tain.” 

The foregoing incident actually occurred on 
board the ship Bengal (Captain Isaac Bray, of 
Newburyport), and the boy, my father, Jacob 
B. Brown, was afterwards for many years a suc¬ 
cessful shipmaster. 


II 

More Mariners 

HE following extracts from a 
simple and veracious journal 
of the late Captain Joseph 
A. Janvrin, of Newburyport, 
illustrate the training and 
hardships of the sailor boys 
of the period referred to. 

“In November, 1843, my 
father had just finished his 
summer work, mackerel fishing, in his schooner 
Reward , of forty-seven tons, and had accepted 
a charter to go to Bangor for a cargo of oak 
butts, and he asked me if I would like to accom¬ 
pany him. Having a natural desire to follow 
the sea, this was not a hard question for me 
to answer, and I told him I should be pleased to 
go. Well do I remember the great interest my 
dear mother manifested in me, and her desire 
that I should have everything done that would 
add to my comfort; her thorough looking over 
my clothes and packing them in my little trunk; 
beside putting in a good supply of cookies and 
10 







MORE MARINERS 


11 


cake, together with a few lemons in case I was 
seasick, was the work of a mother. 

“The day of sailing arrived, and my young 
heart was buoyant with the thought of going to 
sea. We cast off from Cushing’s Wharf about 
noon, with a fine fair wind, and it was not long 
before we were over the bar and into Ipswich 
Bay. In the meantime the wind had hauled to 
the S.W., and came on to blow a good whole sail 
breeze. After we had passed the range of Cape 
Ann the S.W. sea was making up, and as our 
little Pinky was in ballast she was like an egg 
shell, on the top of every little sea and in the 
trough of the same, and her feeling of uneasiness 
created in me a feeling not only of uneasiness 
but of real sickness such as I had never experi¬ 
enced before, and from what I had heard of sea¬ 
sickness I concluded that I had it. An extra 
lurch brought about the fact, and my dinner was 
spread out before me. 

“We arrived in Bangor, and in a short time 
we had received all the cargo our little craft 
would carry in the hold, and a partial deck load, 
and we started for home. After we had cleared 
the mouth of the Penobscot the weather came 
on very threatening, with the wind from the 


12 


MY DITTY BAG 


N.E., and finally freshened until it settled down 
into one of our old-time northeasters. At this 
time we were running under a three-reefed fore¬ 
sail and bob jib. Our crew consisted of my 
father, two men, and myself. Of course I feel 
obliged to mention myself in the list of the crew, 
but I shall never be any more dead than I was 
that night—only that I was breathing. Just 
fancy a little boy of eight years of age starting 
out in life under such circumstances, and in that 
heavy gale. 

“During the time that my father owned the 
Reward he was very fortunate in getting good 
fares, and money came to him easily and plenti¬ 
ful. He always made a practice of buying a 
general cargo of fresh and salt fish, apples, 
onions, etc., in the fall, and would go to Balti¬ 
more and hire a stall in the market, and lay 
there in the basin until all was sold out. Then 
he would buy a cargo of corn for Boston. The 
last year that he owned the Reward I went to 
Baltimore with him. While he would attend 
the markets there I went to Washington, D. C., 
where I stopped four weeks in the market, with 
good success, attending to business during the 
a.m., and going to the Capitol in the p.m., thus 




MORE MARINERS 


13 


having a good opportunity to enjoy the speeches 
in the House and Senate. 

“The following spring I sailed for more south¬ 
ern waters off Sandy Hook, to begin my first 
summer’s work in the mackerel fishing business 
(I being nine years of age the following Octo¬ 
ber), and during the following four months I 
earned my father a large sum of money for a 
boy. From the time I started, until I left school 
and began going on long voyages, I had earned 
about $1800.00 and one summer in particular 
I earned $294.00. When circumstances would 
permit I was supposed to study and recite to 
my father every day, and in this way, and by 
putting in extra study, I kept along with my 
class in school. I had about seven months of 
the year in the schoolhouse until I was seven¬ 
teen years of age.” 

It is not in accord with our modern ideas to 
send a boy nine years old to earn his own living 
on a mackerel schooner, but few of our modern 
youngsters earn $1800.00 during their school 
days, and fewer still would spend their leisure 
hours listening to speeches in Washington. The 
old-fashioned educational methods may have 
been crude, but they inculcated industry, thrift, 


14 


MY DITTY BAG 


observation, and self-reliance—and the oppor¬ 
tunities to acquire knowledge were more appre¬ 
ciated than they are now. 

Illustrating the method of educating boys on 
shipboard, I remember a Scotch boy, David, 
who was in the same watch with me on my first 
voyage to sea. He had been cabin boy for a 
short cruise on an English ship, and thought he 
knew something about his duties and what was 
expected of him, but he had much to learn of the 
different discipline and customs prevailing on 
American vessels. David did not have the 
proper respect for his superior officers, and the 
mate perceived quite early in the voyage that 
David’s early nautical education had been neg¬ 
lected. 

The man at the wheel was not supposed to 
chew tobacco, or in any event not to expectorate 
on the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck. 
Whether the mate saw Davy violate this rule, 
or whether the white paint on the rail betrayed 
his indiscretion, I do not recall, but when he was 
relieved from the wheel the m&te told him to 
bring aft the funnel used for filling the tanks, 
and to draw a bucket of salt water. The unsus¬ 
pecting youth did as he was told. Then he was 


MORE MARINERS 


15 


commanded, “Lay down there, and put the fun¬ 
nel in your mouth.” Davy thought of remon¬ 
strating, but the mate had the forceful presence 
of Rider Haggard’s “She, Who Must Be 
Obeyed.” The mate threw the bucket of salt 
water into the funnel, and the gasping boy was 
told to rinse his mouth, when the dose was re¬ 
peated. The practical moral was not to again 
get caught chewing tobacco on the quarter-deck. 
Maybe the soldiers in the Philippines got their 
idea of water cure from the Mariners. 

A few nights after the occurrence last men¬ 
tioned we were setting the main topgallant sail, 
after a fresh gale, which was beginning to sub¬ 
side. The man on the yard yelled to “Let go the 
buntlines and leechlines,” so that he could over¬ 
haul them aloft. David, by mistake, let go the 
clewline before they were ready to sheet home; 
consequently the sail threshed around, and was 
likely to be split in ribbands. Finally the sail was 
set without any accident. David was damned 
and cuffed, but he was tough and careless, and 
forgot all about his lubberly conduct until the 
next night, when the mate called him down to 
the main rigging. 

The leechline, buntline and clewline all came 


16 


MY DITTY BAG 


down the shroud and through the same fair- 
leader, the leechline through the hole furthest 
forward, the clewline in the center, and the 
buntline furthest aft, and they were belayed on 
the pins in this order. 

The mate asked Davy, “What rope is this?” 
If he guessed correctly the mate hit him a good 
lick with a rope’s-end, and would say, “That’s 
the buntline, remember it.” If he guessed in¬ 
correctly he got two or three blows, and was 
shown the right rope. If the pupil seemed ob¬ 
stinate or stupid the blows were harder and 
more frequently administered. After ten or fif¬ 
teen minutes David could pick out the right 
rope quickly and accurately, and he never for¬ 
got the knowledge thus acquired. I am confi¬ 
dent that the Squeer’s method of teaching was 
antedated by nautical practice. 

Nowadays if we had any sailing vessels, 
under similar circumstances the boys would be 
found in the forward cabin, looking at moving 
pictures of the different ropes and sails, and the 
mate would deliver a gentle and instructive dis¬ 
course on the uses of the ropes under considera¬ 
tion, and he would politely intimate to the 
young gentlemen present that they must be 


MORE MARINERS 


17 


careful and not let go a clewline instead of a 
leechline, as by such carelessness they might 
throw a man off the yard or tear the sail. Then 
if the session had lasted over an hour the boys 
would probably be exhausted, and the steward 
would be ordered to serve toasted marshmallows. 

When I recall that Decatur was a midship¬ 
man in our navy when he was thirteen years old, 
and that it was not uncommon for the mariners 
of fifty years ago to go to sea and earn their liv¬ 
ing before they were thirteen years old, I wonder 
if some of our protective laws against child labor 
are going to be as beneficial for the coming gen¬ 
eration as it is anticipated that they will be. 
The old-fashioned virtues of energy, industry 
and application seem to be largely forgotten. 

The old Master Mariners were inclined to 
be arbitrary, and had decided convictions and 
principles, to which they adhered with great 
tenacity, as illustrated by an anecdote of Cap¬ 
tain Zeke Crowell. This captain was capable 
and successful, and commanded some of the 
best whaling ships sailing out of New Bedford, 
but his one fault was that instead of looking on 
the wine when it was red he drank various 
and sundry alcoholic stimulants without stop- 


18 


MY DITTY BAG 


prng to scrutinize them very closely; and when 
he went on a time, as he did once in every two 
or three months, depending upon opportunity 
and disposition, he was likely to have a real 
spree. In those days it was quite popular to 
take pledges, and there were frequent temper¬ 
ance revivals and many temperance societies. 
Captain Crowell’s friends reasoned with him 
and endeavored to have him reform his habits, 
and just prior to the departure of his vessel on 
a long whaling cruise Captain Zeke had been 
having a real debauch, and the day prior to his 
departure he had a very bad head and was feel¬ 
ing very repentant. At the solicitation of some 
of his friends, and his shipowners, he walked up 
two flights of stairs to the office of the local 
temperance society, and told the young lady 
acting as secretary that she could take his appli¬ 
cation for membership, and he signed the appli¬ 
cation book. He then had the comfortable feel¬ 
ing that he was a full-fledged temperance man, 
but as his vessel proceeded to the Western 
Islands, his first port of call, he was rather 
lonely, and when he would walk the deck at 
night the thought frequently came to his mind 
that a little alcoholic stimulant was much to be 


MORE MARINERS 


19 


desired. However, he left port after nobly re¬ 
sisting the temptation. There was even a 
stronger temptation later on the voyage when 
he called at Honolulu, and afterwards at the 
Bay of Islands, but he kept his pledge and prin¬ 
ciples in mind and refused to yield to his de¬ 
sires. He made a successful voyage, and while 
returning to New Bedford, with a full cargo of 
oil, the more he thought on the subject the more 
he decided that teetotalism was a failure, and 
that he would resign from the temperance so¬ 
ciety as soon as he landed in New Bedford. 
Day after day he had more pleasing expecta¬ 
tions of the glorious spree he would have when 
his resignation was accepted. As soon as his 
vessel was fast at the wharf he again proceeded 
to the office of the secretary, said good morning, 
and stated that he was going to resign from the 
society, and would have no further obligations. 
The secretary said, “Why, Captain Crowed, you 
were never elected to the society. The president 
said he knew you could not keep your pledge 
two weeks.” The old man, according to tradi¬ 
tion, proceeded to celebrate as he never had 
before, but his firmness and sense of honor were 
commendable. 


Ill 

Captains and Sailors 

>ING to sea” was a hard 
life. Much has been said 
and written about the bru¬ 
tality and cruelty of the old 
shipmasters. A ship’s fore¬ 
castle was not a good place 
for a weakling. Dudes were 
at a discount. Men were 
expected to “step lively” 
when orders were given, and prompt obedience 
was demanded and speedily enforced. The lan¬ 
guage used was rough and forcible. A blow 
frequently followed a command, and sometimes 
they were in close company. A man who became 
an officer frequently had to fight for his promo¬ 
tion. If an officer could not enforce his orders by 
using his fists he might use a belaying pin, a 
heaver, or a slung shot—but he must get obedi¬ 
ence. All this was expected, and was consid¬ 
ered by those interested as a part of the game. 

20 





CAPTAINS AND SAILORS 


21 


It was very seldom that sober sailors who were 
civil were mistreated, but impudence and in¬ 
competence are cardinal sins at sea. Many 
crews contained some of the roughest and tough¬ 
est men in the world—desperadoes of all na¬ 
tionalities, who could be controlled only by fear 
and brute force. And proper discipline must be 
maintained. 

A shipmaster who was so disposed had excep¬ 
tional opportunities to exhibit his cowardice 
and to bully his crew. He was under no re¬ 
straint. The law, when invoked, was on his side. 
Disobedience was mutiny, and mutiny was 
severely punished. It was seldom that a sailor 
would strike an officer, much less a captain. 
He who was in authority could choose his own 
time for causing trouble. If a sailor was killed, 
captain or officer was not often convicted. The 
record of the official log was carefully worded 
to justify any unusual act on the part of the 
authorities. Testimony was quickly suppressed 
or manufactured. Witnesses were easily dis¬ 
posed of in foreign ports. Sailors whose testi¬ 
mony was feared were promptly turned over 
to the boarding-house keepers. After a short 
debauch they were put on board some vessel 


22 


MY DITTY BAG 


about to sail for another part of the world. It 
was always assumed that the punishment, or 
even death, of a sailor was caused by his rebel¬ 
ling against the duly constituted authorities. In 
many cases this was so, but it would be useless 
to deny that seamen were occasionally, if not 
frequently, brutally treated, and sometimes, 
although rarely, murdered on the high seas. 

One of the most common methods of bullying 
a sailor who had incurred the ill-will of an officer 
was to nag him when he was steering. In a 
heavy sea, with a strong wind, a vessel would 
frequently get a point off the compass course for 
a short time. By watching the horizon an officer 
could easily see when this happened, and would 
quickly glance in the binnacle and ascertain 
exactly how much the deviation was. He would 
then proceed to abuse the helmsman accordingly, 
although the latter was likely to be a most com¬ 
petent man. 

When a ship was “on the wind” it was even 
easier to find fault. If she was well up in the 
wind, and the light sails freely lifting, a surly 
common question was, “What the hell are you 
doing there—trying to shake the sticks out of 
her?” Or if the ship was being kept a good full, 


CAPTAINS AND SAILORS 23 

the query was, “What’s the matter with you— 
trying to make a free wind out of it? Don’t you 
know enough to steer?” And a constant criti¬ 
cism of the helmsman was kept up, coupled with 
sarcasm and profanity, which was most irri¬ 
tating. 

If the poor sailor ventured a reply, the officer 
got the opportunity he was seeking. The sailor 
would have both of his hands on the wheel, and 
the bully would roughly say, “Talk back to me, 
will you?” and before the helmsman knew what 
had happened he was punched several times on 
the face. If he offered any resistance he got 
more. The mate always had the great advan¬ 
tage of choosing his time, and the man would be 
half licked before he could defend himself. If 
any real resistance was expected, more blows, 
and harder, were given to the unfortunate vic¬ 
tim, and a sailor was always obliged to clean 
up his own blood from the quarter deck in his 
watch below. This was supposed to be con¬ 
ducive to good discipline. If a sailor had the 
reputation of being a fighter, he was slugged 
with a belaying pin instead of a fist. Any investi¬ 
gation of such an occurrence always resulted in 
the acquittal of the officer. The sailor was 


24 


MY DITTY BAG 


invariably logged as incompetent and insubordi¬ 
nate. 

Remember that a sea captain, if he was not 
on good terms with the mates, was almost in 
solitary confinement—not speaking to any one 
for weeks and months, except to give com¬ 
mands. He was frequently exhausted from ex¬ 
posure and care, often lonely and irritable—yet 
clothed with absolute power. Is it any wonder 
if under these conditions a man yielded to 
temptation and abused his authority? How 
easy to throw a belaying pin at an offending 
sailor; how easy to be a petty tyrant! I have 
seen many meaner bullies in an office on shore, 
and much more irritating exercise of authority 
by men in executive positions in corporations. 
The master mariners had exceptional oppor¬ 
tunities to bully, abuse, and oppress, and con¬ 
sidering the circumstances connected with their 
career they were just and moderate as a class 
in exercising a very unusual authority. They 
were far from being the demons they have been 
frequently represented as having been. 

Some sea captains were men of deep, simple 
religious convictions. I quote again from Cap¬ 
tain Janvrin’s journal: 


CAPTAINS AND SAILORS 


25 


“On arriving at Liverpool I was again given 
command of the Lawrence Brown, sailed for 
Swansea, Wales, and loaded coal blocks for 
Yokohama, Japan. This passage is a mem¬ 
orable one. When off the Cape of Good Hope I 
had some trouble with the carpenter. On the 
night of October 18, 1868 (my birthday), when 
about one hundred miles to the westward of 
Australia, in the quiet of one of the most de¬ 
lightful nights, alone in my cabin, I entered into 
a covenant with my Creator that I would en¬ 
deavor to please Him in all things. The next 
morning was Sunday. I told the mate my 
experience during the night, and for him to 
notify all hands that I would hold divine service 
in the cabin at nine o’clock. Also that he must 
not wash the deck Sunday mornings. I went 
on deck, and it seemed as though I never saw 
such order—every rope coiled in a Flemish 
coil. At a few minutes before nine the bell on 
the forward house began to toll. I soon heard 
the tramp of the sailors’ feet, with Mr. Hotch¬ 
kiss, the mate, at the head of them. I went to 
the cabin door to meet them, and had them form 
a semi-circle around the capstan. I felt that my 
first duty (if I was to be a Christian) was to 


26 


MY DITTY BAG 


settle with the carpenter. I called him, and said, 
‘Carpenter, I am very sorry for the trouble we 
have had, and I ask your forgiveness.’ He laid 
his head on my shoulder and wept like a child. 
That scene I shall never forget, for the whole 
ship’s company, including myself, were in tears. 
It is wonderful what the Spirit of God can do 
with strong men who have been enemies. He 
said, ‘You were not to blame, sir, as I had pro¬ 
voked the quarrel,’ and asked my forgiveness 
for what he had done. I asked them into the 
cabin, and we had a good meeting.” 

Sunday schools were not common on ship¬ 
board ; but neither were shambles. The alleged 
brutalities on shipboard have been frequently 
referred to and usually magnified, while the 
good deeds of the old captains have commonly 
been forgotten. 

Some few commanders were notably brutal. 
One captain I knew of did occasionally dis¬ 
charge his revolver at men on the yards who 
did not move fast enough to suit him. But in 
the early eighties conditions on shipboard were 
much better than in the previous generation. 
World communication was easier and more fre¬ 
quent; the United States authorities were more 


CAPTAINS AND SAILORS 27 

alert; genuine investigations were made at ports 
of destination, and the class of sailors was bet¬ 
ter, so far as character was concerned. The 
more docile Scandinavians did not require the 
same severe treatment as the Western Ocean 
packet sailors. There were fewer fighting Irish¬ 
men than in the earlier days of the American 
mercantile marine. As a class the old ship¬ 
masters were dignified, competent, and good dis¬ 
ciplinarians, and if they occasionally lapsed into 
meanness and brutality it should be remembered 
that they were clothed with great authority, and 
had exceptionally strong temptations to exer¬ 
cise it. 



IV 


Mutiny 


O NE of the most thrilling events in my 
day on an American vessel was the 
famous mutiny on the ship Frank N. 
Thayer . I was in St. Helena a few weeks after 
this occurrence was reported, and the following 
account is substantially the one given by Hon. 
James A. MacKnight, who was United States 
consul at that time. I afterwards met Captain 
Clark in New York, and the story is a true re¬ 
cital of an actual adventure. 

There had been a shortage of sailors when 
the Thayer was ready to sail for home from the 
Philippine Islands. To fill his crew the captain 
shipped two Filipino sailors at Ilo-Ilo—neither 
of whom could speak a word of English, and 
28 





MUTINY 


29 


both of whom showed sullen and ugly disposi¬ 
tions from the day they came aboard. 

The first real trouble with them arose when 
the ship was in the Indian Ocean, and one of the 
mates whipped them into line with a rope’s end. 
When the ship was rounding the Cape of Good 
Hope on a beautiful day in January (that being 
the summer season in the South Atlantic), the 
two Filipinos were again obstreperous, and were 
again given the rope. It was believed that they 
harbored resentment for these floggings, and 
that what followed was the direct result of this 
feeling. 

At midnight the first and second mates met 
on deck, as was their custom, and sat down to 
chat a moment on a hatch near the front door 
of the captain’s cabin. 

By this time the men were pretty well strung 
out, going and coming along the deck, when, 
unnoticed by any one, the two Filipinos, with 
double-edged knives concealed in each hand, 
met near where the mates sat and fell upon 
them with such fatal effect that both were mor¬ 
tally stabbed; and in an instant, in less time 
than it takes to tell it, the two savages ran right 
and left, stabbing each and every man they 


30 


MY DITTY BAG 


could reach. They quickly slew the man at the 
wheel and threw him overboard; and in like 
manner served the carpenter in his bunk next to 
the galley, the man on the lookout on the anchor 
deck, and others. The cook they locked in 
the galley, with orders to prepare a feast for 
them of all the poultry and other good things on 
board, under pain of instant death. 

After being stabbed the first mate staggered 
along the deck to the door of the forecastle, 
where he succumbed. The second mate, in try¬ 
ing to give the captain the alarm, fell down the 
steps of the cabin and breathed his last before 
he could utter a sound, except a death cry that 
escaped him as he fell. 

This aroused Captain Clark, who sprang from 
his bed with only his night-clothes on and his 
feet bare. He was unarmed. As he ran up the 
after companion-way one of the mutineers met 
him on the stairs and began to stab him with 
both of his double-edged knives. The captain 
had the good luck to strike him a stunning blow 
with his fist, which caused him to return up the 
stairs on all fours, while the captain himself 
staggered back in his cabin weltering in his own 
blood. Terrible gashes had been made in his 


MUTINY 


31 


head, face and shoulder, and from a gaping 
wound in his left side his lung protruded. He 
was entirely ignorant as to who was his assail¬ 
ant, or what all the commotion meant. He did 
not know until later that his second mate lay 
dead in the forward room of the cabin, or of 
any of the work done by the two savages on the 
deck. 

His delicate little wife was the only one who 
came to his relief. Both knew instinctively that 
a mutiny had broken out, and that they were 
facing a fight for their lives. Mrs. Clark knew 
that her only hope was in saving the life of her 
husband. With his life-blood ebbing away so 
that he could scarcely speak, he helped her to 
brace him in a corner of the cabin, and the little 
girl, almost frightened to death, brought the two 
big Colt revolvers which he kept under his 
pillow. 

When Sunday dawned this was the situation 
on the doomed ship: Mrs. Clark was still work¬ 
ing to save the life of the captain. The wounded 
and dead members of the crew were in the fore¬ 
castle, the door barred against them by a heavy 
plank, which was braced against the ship’s rail. 
One man, who had escaped with a slight wound, 


32 


MY DITTY BAG 


was hidden in the captain’s bathroom, just out¬ 
side the other cabin door, and had locked him¬ 
self in there to escape the Filipinos. 

Meantime they had found that the captain 
was not dead, and tried to devise means to 
finish him. There were, of course, no firearms 
on board except those in the captain’s keeping. 
The Filipinos soon rigged some weapons, how¬ 
ever, with which they could kill a foe at a dis¬ 
tance. They were formed by lashing sharp 
knives on the ends of long bamboo poles. Two 
of these improvised javelins were hurled through 
the skylight into the cabin, but the captain’s 
bullets drove the Filipinos off before they could 
get accurate range. 

All day Sunday the Filipinos amused them¬ 
selves feasting on deck, and hurling missiles of 
all kinds through the windows at the men they 
had caged in the forecastle. 

Late on Monday the Captain decided to ven¬ 
ture on deck, with the assistance of the man 
from the bathroom, and this enabled the man in 
the mizzen rigging to come down. The report 
says: 

“From that moment the drama moved with 
lightning speed. The man from the bathroom 


MUTINY 


33 


was afraid of a pistol, but the other took one and 
went gunning for the Filipinos. They skulked 
about forward, hiding behind any object that 
would shelter them, and sticking out an arm 
now and then to brandish their bloody knives. 
The braver sailor halted them and managed to 
shoot one in the leg. This wretch immediately 
jumped overboard, and a big shark took him as 
soon as he struck the water.” 

The other savage, uttering a yell of defiance 
and flourishing his knife over his head, sprang 
down a hatch which had been left open in fine 
weather for ventilation. In a moment clouds of 
smoke issued from the hatch. He had fired the 
hemp bales in all directions, and the ship was 
afire. 

The sailor with the revolver went down the 
hatch to try to shoot the Filipino, but he was 
driven back by the smoke. Finally the savage 
sprang out with a yell, and went over the side 
with bullets flying after him. The sharks took 
him also. 

However, a worse fate was now impending 
for the other survivors. The flames were spread¬ 
ing with such rapidity that it was a problem to 
launch a boat with the few available men. The 


34 


MY DITTY BAG 


flames had all the after part of the ship, and the 
captain and his family had gone forward, taking 
with them the ship’s compass and chronometer, 
and such other articles as they could carry. 

Seventeen out of the twenty-six of the ship’s 
company managed to get into an open boat, and 
after many days of suffering and suspense 
reached the Island of St. Helena, eight hundred 
miles away. 

Captain Clark finally recovered, and moved 
to California. 

Mutinies were very rare, and this mutiny on 
the Thayer was the only well authenticated case 
of a real mutiny on an American ship that I 
heard of during my sea-going days. 



I HAVE often wondered when fish sleep. 
That they can follow a vessel day after day, 
apparently as long as they desire, is indi¬ 
cated by the following extract from a journal I 
kept in 1885: 

“The day that we crossed the equator we had 
quite an exciting time catching seventeen fine, 
fat bonitos. I caught seven within ten minutes, 
using white rag for bait, and the fish for a while 
bit furiously, as fast as I could haul them in. 
These bonitos were like very large plump mack¬ 
erel, about two feet long. They were very un- 
35 







36 


MY DITTY BAG 


certain about biting. This same school of fish 
would at times jump and sport in the water, 
very close to the vessel, but would not pay any 
attention to bait for days at a time, although 
occasionally we could get them by throwing a 
‘grains,’ a four-pronged fish spear, used like a 
harpoon, and thrown from the martingale, or 
ship’s deck. As the ship dashes through the 
water, to strike regularly requires a good eye 
and considerable skill. Like all deep-water fish, 
the bonito is rather dry, but baked with butter- 
sauce is a good substitute for bluefish. 

“This same school of fish followed us nearly to 
the Western Islands, over two thousand miles, 
and were in sight for fourteen days. We had 
seen them every day, but at night they congre¬ 
gated more closely together, swimming along 
under each quarter and around the rudder. 
Near the equator the ocean was full of small 
phosphorescent animalcula. The ship’s wake 
was like a pale, sparkling calcium light, in liquid 
form, strewn with flashing bright beads, and the 
fish showing dark as they would swim in this 
phosphorescence. The effect was very beautiful 
as they darted from side to side, disturbing the 
brilliant water in their movement. They were 


FISHY 


37 


so clearly perceived that some nights we tried 
to strike them with the grains, but without suc¬ 
cess, owing—I think—to miscalculating their 
depth. 

“It is hardly conceivable that we have been 
escorted by successive relays of bonito, relieved 
by other squads of the same species, and we are 
certain that these fish are the same that started 
north with us. I wonder when they sleep! 
Evidently, while they swim, or after a long 
period of wakefulness. I also wonder how fast 
fish swim. I have seen porpoises plunging and 
leaping around the bow of a steamer going 
twenty knots an hour as easily as they gambol 
under the bow of a sailing ship. 

“As we have caught all of the fresh fish that 
we could use, many of the crew are feeling ill 
effects from their feasting. One man is quite 
badly poisoned—laid up all day. 

“Many deep-water fish are poisonous at cer¬ 
tain times and in certain localities, if eaten too 
freely, or some fish if even tasted. There are 
various theories to account for these facts, one 
of which is that the fish feed on barnacles adher¬ 
ing to the ship’s copper, and in this way become 
contaminated. Another supposition is that if 


38 


MY DITTY BAG 


the fish are too old, or eaten in the breeding sea¬ 
son, they are injurious, and an old sailor sup¬ 
position is that these fish are only uneatable if 
they have at some time tasted human flesh. 
This reminds me that since the volcanic erup¬ 
tion of Krokatoa the Europeans in Java and 
other Eastern colonies shun fish as food.” 

I am ready to make an affidavit to the forego¬ 
ing fish story, and this could be confirmed by 
another living and reliable witness. 

Captain Joshua Slocum, in his book “Sailing 
Alone Around the World,” relates the following 
incident: 

“One of this little school of deserters was a 
dolphin, that had followed the Spray about a 
thousand miles, and had been content to eat 
scraps of food thrown overboard from my table, 
for, having been wounded, it could not dart 
through the sea to prey on other fishes.” 

It would be unusual for a sailor to write any¬ 
thing about fish without some reference to 
sharks. Sailors hate sharks with a holy hatred, 
cruel, persistent, and unwarranted. It is hardly 
worth while to say a good word for sharks, but 
their evil reputation has been greatly exagger¬ 
ated. I am confident that very few sharks eat 


FISHY 


39 


live men, and many fish will eat dead men. I 
have never known a man who was actually 
attacked by a shark, and I have never met a 
man who had himself seen a shark attack a full 
grown man. I have seen men of all colors swim¬ 
ming, without any molestation, in water in¬ 
fested with sharks. Once in going to Shanghai 
via the Ombay Passage, our vessel struck at 
night a dangerous coral reef under water, near 
the Boe Islands, and we could not get her off 
until we finally jettisoned over a hundred tons 
of cargo. At daylight our captain wished to 
get some idea of the extent of the damage to the 
ship’s bottom and how she was lying on the 
reef, and he asked if any of the crew were good 
divers. A Greek, “J im >” reported that he had 
worked as a diver, and he was quite willing to 
make the examination required for twenty-five 
dollars. The water was calm and clear, and we 
could see twenty or thirty sharks swimming 
around—some of them very large. In response 
to an inquiry, Jim said he was not afraid, but he 
put his sheath knife in his mouth when he dived. 
He made repeated descents, and the sharks paid 
no attention whatever to him. Jim told me that 
when he worked as a diver a shark once came 


40 


MY DITTY BAG 


too close and he thought the creature was going 
to bite, so he hacked at him with his knife, and 
the shark swam away frightened. 

Once, after coming through the Torres Straits, 
we anchored near Rennells Island, and when 
we tried to get under way in the early morning 
we found that our chain cable was fouled around 
the coral bottom, and it took us so long to get it 
clear that it was too late to make a start that 
day. In the afternoon we went on board a 
little schooner from the northwestern coast of 
Australia, that was engaged in pearl shell fish¬ 
ing, and the natives were regularly diving in 
their bare skins, although they could plainly see 
several large sharks near the bottom. There 
was one small native boy about twelve years 
old whose right shoulder showed a frightful 
scar, where he had recently been bitten by a 
shark. His wound was barely healed, so was of 
recent origin. The captain told me that it was 
quite a small shark that had attacked the boy, 
and that several of the natives, with their knives, 
had jumped overboard, and finally frightened 
the shark from his prey. I asked the captain 
how he had treated the boy’s lacerated shoul¬ 
der. “Oh,” he said, “we soaked tobacco leaves 


FISHY 


41 


in salt water and applied them as a poultice.” 
I do not presume that this would be in accord¬ 
ance with modern antiseptic treatment, but it 
was wonderfully successful in this particular 
case. 

If you kicked a self-respecting shark in the 
face he might resent such treatment. I am 
ready to admit that some sharks have particu¬ 
larly mean and vicious dispositions. When 
urged by unusual hunger a shark might be¬ 
come bold and savage, but I am convinced that 
under ordinary conditions he will not attack an 
adult. 

Sailors are very cruel and vindictive when 
they catch a shark—always cutting his tail off, 
so that he cannot swim. Disemboweling, per¬ 
manently forcing his jaws open with a strong 
stick, and putting hot bricks down his throat 
before he is thrown overboard, are ways in 
which the sailors torture him. 

Sharks are scavengers, but they are not 
always voracious, and the “shovel nose” shark is 
often quite epicurean. 

People who have only seen sharks eat from a 
baited hook are responsible for the very general 
belief that it is necessary for sharks to turn on 


42 


MY DITTY BAG 


their backs before taking food into their mouths. 
Eating meat suspended on a line does not indi¬ 
cate the common condition under which a shark 
feeds. 

Sharks turn slightly in feeding, because their 
noses are a little in the way, but they do not 
have to get on their backs by any means, and I 
have seen a shark gobble a piece of meat that 
was thrown overboard with a very slight, almost 
imperceptible, turn of the head. 

Many of the West India natives, when in 
swimming, are more afraid of the “barracoota” 
than they are of sharks. 

A swordfish is not afraid of anything that 
swims, and it is comparatively easy after a 
swordfish is sighted to bring a schooner, or sloop, 
so near to him that he can be harpooned from 
the bowsprit end. The wooden shaft of the har¬ 
poon becomes detached, and the steel barb re¬ 
mains embedded in the flesh, with a small rope 
no larger than a clothesline attached. This 
rope is wound around a small empty keg, which 
is thrown overboard when a fish is struck, and 
as it swims away the keg revolves rapidly until 
the line is all unwound, and the keg serves as a 
buoy to indicate about where the fish is when 


FISHY 


43 


he dashes for liberty and endeavors to detach 
the barb that has pierced his flesh. 

A dory is then launched from the larger ves¬ 
sel with one man, who picks up the keg and 
carefully coils up the line as he hauls in, so that 
if the fish takes a strong run there is no danger 
of fouling the line. If the harpoon has not pene¬ 
trated a vital part, the fish may tow the boat 
for an hour or more before becoming exhausted, 
but when the experienced fisherman realizes 
that the time is ripe he starts pulling on the line, 
playing the fish when the strain becomes too 
great, and finally hauling him to the surface 
within reach of a long sharp lance, with which 
he stabs the fish repeatedly through the gills 
until he is dead. Now this seems easy, but on 
the Grand Banks, in a rough sea, if a large fish is 
struck, the man in the dory is frequently alone 
on the wide Atlantic for several hours before he 
can kill his fish. 

Some swordfish weigh as much as one thou¬ 
sand pounds, and if a swordfish “goes crazy,” 
as the sailors say, he is likely to attack the boat. 
It is very easy for him to put his sword through 
the bottom of the frail dory. In the British 
Museum I saw the broken sword of a fish that 


44 


MY DITTY BAG 


had gone through the outer and inner planking 
of a vessel and penetrated an oil barrel—nearly 
seven inches of solid oak wood in all. It is easy 
to realize that seven or eight hundred pounds of 
fish going at the speed of twenty or thirty miles 
per hour acquires a tremendous impetus. 

Once I saw a large swordfish, that was being 
stabbed by the dory man, wrench himself in his 
death struggle free from the harpoon. He broke 
out of water at least ten feet straight up in 
the air, and, seeing the yacht, which seemed to 
be the cause of his misfortunes, he started for 
the schooner at full speed, ramming her with 
force enough to have sent his sword through sev¬ 
eral inches of plank. The impact with the 
schooner’s steel side must have given a fright¬ 
ful jar to the unfortunate fish. 

My brother is a very enthusiastic and skilful 
swordfisherman. For many years he has had in 
his employ Henry, a fine stalwart French Can¬ 
adian, standing six feet, and weighing two hun¬ 
dred pounds, and a very powerful man. He 
rates as second mate of the good schooner 
yacht Mariette, and is also fisherman in chief 
and yarn-spinner extraordinary. As a nautical 
raconteur Henry would take a prize at any fish 


FISHY 


45 


fair. Henry gave me a method for landing a 
swordfish which I commend to the attention of 
ambitious fishermen. 

A few years ago we were after swordfish off 
Cape Breton Island, making Arichat our port of 
departure each morning, and in late August and 
early September this is one of the best sword¬ 
fishing grounds on the coast. 

One day we had excellent luck, striking four 
fish before noon. Henry always had his place 
in the first dory, and was ambitious to get all 
the fish he could without any assistance from 
other members of the crew. After playing his 
first fish about fifteen minutes, as we knew 
Henry would endeavor to land him quickly, 
we watched him through our glasses. After the 
usual stabbing, instead of towing the fish to 
the big boat, as is customary, we saw Henry 
apparently take the fish in his arms and pull 
him in the dory, after which he rowed briskly 
toward the second keg. 

After dinner that night I went forward where 
Henry was taking his usual smoke, and said to 
him, “Henry, I have knocked around the world 
quite a bit, and have seen some fishing, but I 
never before saw a man get a two-hundred-and- 


46 


MY DITTY BAG 


fifty-pound fish on board a dory in the open 
ocean.” Henry replied, “Oh, that was nothing, 
Captain Charles,” and he then gave me the fol¬ 
lowing recipe: “Fasten his tail over the gunwale 
to the after thwart; put his sword over your 
shoulder; put your big finger in his eyeball; 
grab him with your other hand near his tail; 
when she rolls to leeward pull hard as the boat 
rolls back, and the ‘Cot damn fish he got to 
come.’ ” Henry said he had landed fish in this 
way weighing nearly four hundred pounds. I 
will swear to this one that weighed over two 
hundred and fifty pounds. 


VI 


Co-operation Aided Greatly in the Success 
and Development of Our Old Mercan¬ 
tile Marine. 

HERE has never been any 
better example of coopera¬ 
tion than was shown during 
the most prosperous period 
of American shipping. Ves¬ 
sels were frequently divided 
into shares, representing one 
hundred and twenty-eighths. 
The builders and captain 
were usually the largest owners, but often some 
local capitalist would take one-eighth or one- 
quarter interest and have the vessel named for 
him. 

The blacksmith, painter, caulker, rigger, sail- 
maker, ship chandler and shipbroker were fre¬ 
quently joint owners, sincerely and selfishly 
interested in building and equipping the vessel 

in a thorough and efficient manner. 

47 




48 


MY DITTY BAG 


No poor materials were likely to be put into a 
ship built under the constant supervision of 
those most interested. The captain watched 
each plank that was put in, and carefully in¬ 
spected all the material and workmanship. All 
the owners were practical men, who criticized 
freely. Workmen were paid by the day, and 
they took pride in their work. Those vessels 
were built and sailed upon honor. Dishonesty 
was rare, and the profits, while frequently large, 
were always legitimate. 

When a boy, I remember seeing a caulker 
whom I knew coming home quite late one sum¬ 
mer night. I asked him where he had been, and 
he said he was working on a vessel under con¬ 
struction and wanted to finish entirely some 
seams and butts, as he thought it might rain 
before Monday and ultimately cause damage. 
He got no extra pay for overtime, but he was suf¬ 
ficiently well paid to be interested in his work. 
The next day he was at our church, well dressed, 
and as independent as a self-respecting Ameri¬ 
can should be. 

And so with the other mechanics. Each of 
them keenly felt that a rotten piece of timber or 
a poor plank might cause a serious disaster. A 


OUR OLD MERCANTILE MARINE 49 


flaw in the chain cable might put the vessel on 
a rocky shore. The painter took as much pride 
in his work as any modern decorator could take 
with the finest mansion. His art and craft 
were to be exhibited all over the world. Much 
depended on the care and ability of the rigger. 
The sailmaker knew that the vessel would fre¬ 
quently be kept from disaster by good canvas, 
well sewed. I once sailed with a captain who 
rather irreverently stated, “Many a night Eben 
Goodwin’s topsails have been all there was 
between me and hell.” Every workman knew 
that the lives and property of his neighbors and 
friends might depend on his individual work, 
and the cooperation and esprit de corps devel¬ 
oped under these circumstances have never been 
equaled by any other nation. 

The officers and crews were “from home”; 
every young man knew that he could earn pro¬ 
motion in a few years if he was worthy of ad¬ 
vancement, and the calling was lucrative in com¬ 
parison with opportunities on shore. This gen¬ 
eral spirit of friendly cooperation is well de¬ 
picted by Elijah Kellogg, in those excellent 
books of his, “The Elm Island Series.” Can 
you imagine Captain Rhines bullying his men? 


50 


MY DITTY BAG 


After forty years I can recall how the boat’s 
crew of the Ark of Elm Island beat the crew of 
the supercilious Britisher. 

Temperance is one of the greatest virtues in 
an ocean commander, and the honesty and so¬ 
briety of these Master Mariners were well rec¬ 
ognized. More disasters at sea have occurred 
from the use of liquor than from any other 
cause. These old shipmasters were not all 
saints, and maybe some of them, when in some 
far-away foreign port, would be tempted to im¬ 
bibe too freely, but the return to the ship was 
constantly dreaded. Tongues would wag, and 
reports would be sure to get back to the home 
port. Maybe the second mate or a boy forward 
was the son of a large owner. A captain’s repu¬ 
tation for temperance had to be zealously 
guarded. The Grocery Store Tribunal at home 
was a constant menace to master and mates. 
Many a reputation for laziness, or for poor navi¬ 
gation, or lack of courage in carrying on sail has 
been given by their fellow sailors to those who 
deserved it. 

Foreign vessels were usually built and owned 
by companies. The captains and crews were 
strangers. These vessels, when abroad, were 


OUR OLD MERCANTILE MARINE 51 

managed by agents. Foreign captains rarely 
had the same responsibilities as the American 
commanders, and more rarely still their inde¬ 
pendence and self-reliance. They seldom owned 
any interest in their vessels. American owners 
encouraged their captains to take their wives to 
sea with them, and this custom exercised a 
wholesome and restraining influence. Foreign 
owners rarely gave their captains this privilege. 

Before any ocean cables were laid, and before 
the Suez Canal was opened, the duties of a ship¬ 
master were many and complicated. Being cut 
off from all communication with the owners, he 
was obliged to act on his own judgment, and the 
entire business management of the vessel, and 
the results obtained, depended on the ability 
and sagacity of the shipmaster. For instance, 
he was expected to have some knowledge of 
crop maturities in all parts of the world. He 
could afford to accept a lower freight to China 
or Java if he could expect to arrive at the height 
of the tea or sugar season. If bound to Aus¬ 
tralia, he was obliged to figure on the relative 
advantage of taking wheat to Europe, wool to 
England, or coal to China or San Francisco. 
The world’s freight market had to be consid- 


52 


MY DITTY BAG 


ered, and plans changed according to advance 
or decline in freights. 

The American clipper-ship stood forth pre¬ 
eminently as the champion of our mechanical 
skill. She took the teas from China, spice from 
Singapore, gladdened the eyes of the “forty- 
niners” with cargoes from our Atlantic Coast. 
Her supremacy was acknowledged to such an ex¬ 
tent by our greatest commercial rival that in the 
late fifties the English bought many of their best 
ships from us. One of the fastest passages ever 
made from Liverpool to Australia was by the 
American-built but British-owned ship, the 
James S. Baines . 

The day of the square rigger, with all her 
glories, has passed away. Her romance, asso¬ 
ciations, faithful service and international re¬ 
nown will be found in the maritime history of 
our country, but the personal relation with these 
ships will pass with the present generation. 

In the early eighties of the last century many 
of the American captains were quite different 
from the typical shipmasters of the earlier peri¬ 
ods of maritime history. 

One firm in Boston, M. F. Pickering & Co., 
were agents for at least three vessels, whose cap- 


OUR OLD MERCANTILE MARINE 53 

tains had attended or graduated from Harvard 
College. The ships Sachem, Captain Reed, 
Jonathan Bourne, Captain Stone, and the 
barque Harvard , Captain Pray, were the three 
vessels that I recall. The hardships of sea life 
were not as great as they were thirty years 
previous. The vessels were larger and more 
comfortable. The development of the indus¬ 
tries of canning meats, fish and vegetables had 
added much variety to the ship’s bill of fare, 
without increasing the cost to the owners, al¬ 
though American sailors were always the best 
fed sailors in the world. Good fresh bread was 
baked daily for the crew; dried apples, tomato 
soup, potatoes, and canned meats were added to 
the good salt beef, pork, fish, peas and beans. 
Plum duff and lobscouse were delicacies, and 
the food was always good and well cooked. 
Quite a different menu from that described by 
Dana on his voyage in the forties! 


VII 

Sea Habits, Customs and Yarns 


[ERE was very little “mirth 
and laughter” on shipboard 
in the old sailing-ship days. 
The shipmasters understood 
much earlier than the mod¬ 
ern factory superintendent 
the advantages of employing 
men of different nationali¬ 
ties. In a ship’s forecastle 
commonly were found Swedes, Russian Finns, 
Germans, Liverpool Irishmen, Frenchmen, 
Greeks, Italians, and, if procurable, one or two 
Manila men. 

In sailor parlance, men from the northern 
nations were all known as “Dutchmen,” and 
those from the southern nations as “Dagoes.” 
A crew of this character had very little in com¬ 
mon. They were not likely to combine against 
their superior officers; each man looked out for 
himself, and strove to work after the so-called 
American fashion. 

On shipboard, instead of working eight hours 

54 







SEA HABITS, CUSTOMS AND YARNS 55 

each day, it was quite customary to work a crew 
regularly twelve to sixteen hours, with a brief 
respite for meals. About the only time for rest 
or recreation was during the dog watch, from 
six to eight in the evening. Then an Italian or 
Spanish sailor might get from his chest a cher¬ 
ished accordion, and play with unexpected skill; 
but it was seldom that he would have an appre¬ 
ciative audience. Sometimes two or four sailors 
would start a rough dance to the music, but the 
jollity seemed out of place on the ocean, and too 
much noise always attracted the attention of the 
officer on deck. He, jealous or offended at any 
indication of happiness or hilarity, would find 
some excuse to command, “Haul in the lee main 
braces,” or “Hoist up the main topgallant sail 
here.” Or if the mates did not take proper 
cognizance of any undue gaiety forward, the 
captain was likely to say to them, “Those men 
do not seem to have enough to do. Can’t you 
find some work for them.” Relaxation was re¬ 
garded as conducive to mischief. Songs met 
with the approval of the after guard only after 
a hard gale, or when the upper topsails were 
again being set. Then chanties were encour¬ 
aged, and the singing indicated the return of 


56 


MY DITTY BAG 


better weather, and probably a fair wind, at any 
rate progress of some kind. 

Routine life was hard working, silent, and 
somber. Sailors from different countries had 
few interests or subjects in common to talk over. 
Racial and religious jealousies were common, 
and an attempted joke was seldom understood 
and more seldom appreciated. The officers ac¬ 
quired an abusive, sarcastic, profane style of 
address that was original, essential, and suited 
to the surroundings. The master could not 
lower his dignity by speaking except to com¬ 
mand, and his rare attempts at humor were 
grim, infrequent, and not intended to provoke 
reply, much less to excite laughter. 

After many years I recall an illustration of 
nautical humor, which was emphasized by the 
surroundings. It was customary for the differ¬ 
ent fleets on the China Station to rendezvous at 
Hongkong for the Christmas holidays. The races 
at Happy Valley occurred at this time, and it 
was the gay season in the colony. Our vessel 
arrived during the height of the northeast mon¬ 
soon, and in the early morning it was quite cool, 
dark, and rainy. Our captain, who had a chin 
whisker like Uncle Sam’s, had never been in 


SEA HABITS, CUSTOMS AND YARNS 57 

Hongkong before, and as mate I was ordered 
to accompany him on shore to the United States 
Consul, in order to enter the usual “protest” in 
case of any claim against the insurance com¬ 
panies for damages sustained during the voyage. 

Our commander was somewhat eccentric, and 
followed his own dictates as to his apparel. On 
this occasion, as he descended into the sampan, 
he had on a red flannel shirt (which he claimed 
was an infallible protection against rheumatism 
and cholera), a paper collar (used in those 
days), a heavy blue pilot cloth suit, with a reefer 
jacket, and the inevitable high hat which 
stamped his station in life. 

By the time we had transacted our business it 
was high noon. The sun had come out, and 
the thermometer was well up in the eighties. 
We went to Queen’s Hotel for lunch—at that 
time the fashionable hostelry in Hongkong. 
The tables were full of prominent and well- 
dressed citizens, mostly clad in white—naval 
officers of different nationalities in snowy uni¬ 
forms, and army officers were well represented. 

The “old man” felt out of place. He was hot, 
tired and ugly, and his paper collar was wilted 
and uncomfortable. He was provoked at hav- 


58 


MY DITTY BAG 


ing a long wait for his noonday meal, and it was 
evident that his patronage was not greatly 
appreciated. 

Finally we were seated, and the attentive 
Chinese waiter presented the menu for orders, 
asking, “Wan tehee soup?” The guest growled 
“Yes.” Now, ship soup is thick, excellent, and 
nourishing, the meat and vegetables being 
boiled for hours before the sago or rice are 
added. The captain was hungry, and this was 
the kfnd of soup he had in mind. The waiter 
brought a delicate ornamental plate filled with 
thin consomme—the green peas and serrated 
slices of carrots distinctly visible. The “old 
man” was angry, and in stentorian tones, that 
attracted the attention of the other distin¬ 
guished guests and greatly frightened the 
astonished Chinaman, roared, “Take away the 
damned stuff—I can see bottom in forty 
fathoms.” 

I was once second mate of a little English 
barque, the captain of which was a canny Scot, 
who had retained all the thrift and economy 
commonly ascribed to a dozen typical Scots. I 
never had a square meal during the six or seven 
weeks that I was on board his vessel. Neither 


SEA HABITS, CUSTOMS AND YARNS 59 

did any one else. We were deeply laden with 
bean cake from Newchang, the craft was wet, 
and we had a hard passage. The food was so 
poor and scanty that finally the crew mustered 
up courage to complain. One noon they asked 
to see the captain—a very unusual event on 
shipboard. The captain came to the forward 
end of the after house, stern and severe. As the 
spokesman and his companion were going aft, a 
sea came over the weather rail and washed 
them into the scupper. Wet and bedraggled 
they were even more embarrassed than when 
they started. With due respect they finally 
stammered out their complaint, exhibited a 
small hard piece of salt junk and two little pota¬ 
toes, perhaps the size of horse chestnuts, and 
meekly asked if the captain thought that men 
could work on such food. 

The captain promptly ordered the cook to be 
sent aft. The Doctor, as the cook was com¬ 
monly called, was a stout old man, with a red 
face and bald head—an English cockney, with 
the servility of his class. He scuttled aft actu¬ 
ally trembling with fright, for he assumed that 
he would have to take all the blame for serving 
the crew with poor and insufficient food. 


60 


MY DITTY BAG 


The captain loudly inquired if the men’s story 
as to the quantity and quality of the food they 
had was true. The shivering cook moved his 
lips in admission, and our captain, with an im¬ 
pressive wave of his hand and the dignity of a 
Jove, cried out, “Give them another spud, if 
they bust.” The sailors were ordered forward, 
and meekly obeyed. Many a time in after life 
I have known worthy petitioners to be granted 
“another spud.” 

The yarn-spinning proclivities of sailors are 
usually confined to their adventures on shore. 
A sweetheart in San Francisco, a barroom in 
Melbourne, a good boarding-house in London, 
or a big drunk in Rio would readily furnish the 
subject matter for a long yarn. But the men 
who had really taken part in deeds of daring and 
danger on the ocean were modest, reticent, and 
unlikely to relate their experiences, although 
the latter in many cases would be novel and 
interesting. 

There are a few stories well known to all 
sailors, one of which I hope I shall be indulged 
in telling, for I have never seen it in print. 
Imagine that you are being told this yarn under 
the lee of the forward house, in the midnight 


SEA HABITS, CUSTOMS AND YARNS 61 

watch, all sail and stunsails set, the strong trade 
winds blowing two points abaft the beam, and 
the good ship bowling along twelve knots an 
hour. There is nothing for the watch on deck to 
do but to await orders. The spray is dashing 
over the weather rail, and the watch on deck are 
comfortable in their snug shelter, their pipes 
lighted, and no time limit on the old salt who 
spins his yarn with such length and variations 
as suit his pleasure. He will tell this one in 
substance about as follows: 

Those little black web-footed birds that fre¬ 
quently are seen following in the wake of ocean 
steamers are called Mother Carey’s chickens. 
It is a common sailors’ superstition that they 
contain the souls of departed seamen. 

Many, many years ago an old Western Ocean 
packet, carrying an unusually rough, tough 
crew (although they were all bad enough), 
while crossing the Atlantic struck an iceberg 
and immediately sank, with all on board. The 
wicked sailors were promptly and properly con¬ 
signed to the lower regions. As they became 
somewhat acquainted with their new surround¬ 
ings they began to growl, in accordance with 
their previous custom. They growled hard, vig- 


62 


MY DITTY BAG 


orously, persistently. They did not like the 
climate; they alleged that the grub was poor 
and insufficient; they fought among themselves, 
and the language that they used shocked even 
the sin-hardened denizens of Gehenna. 

Satan was greatly displeased with his new 
subjects. He interviewed St. Peter, and flatly 
refused to take any more sailors in his charge. 
He said that he had conducted a good hot hell 
for many years, and had given very little 
trouble, but he desired to have this last consign¬ 
ment of sailors immediately removed. The good 
Saint pacified his petitioner, and a more sat¬ 
isfactory temporary disposition was brought 
about. 

Satan was obliged to listen daily to the dis¬ 
paragement of his domain. The sailors said 
that hell was not as hot as the Red Sea in the 
summer season; that the temperature of the 
lower regions was mild compared with the “brick 
fielders” coming down from the Australian 
Desert, and that the accompanying hot dust 
was much worse than anything experienced in 
the lower regions. Hell was declared to be a 
much more comfortable place than the yard-arm 
of a vessel beating up Boston Bay in the winter 


SEA HABITS, CUSTOMS AND YARNS 63 


season, when the sailor perched up there was 
trying to make a frozen topsail fast, with biting 
snow and sleet driving in at every gust. 

The ordinary yarns that these sailors told 
made the muck-rakers, fishermen, politicians 
and other high-grade liars turn green with envy. 
They rebelled against all the lawfully consti¬ 
tuted authorities. They were insolent, abusive 
and quarrelsome, and made more trouble than 
had been experienced for several centuries. 

His Satanic Majesty again went aloft to make 
another vigorous complaint, and finally insisted 
on resigning if he was obliged to continue to 
keep the sailors in his custody. St. Peter was 
perplexed, but finally had to submit to the de¬ 
mands of the guardian of the lower regions, who 
returned joyfully and told the sailors that they 
could clear out. 

A conference was held, and the old salts 
talked over the hardships that they had endured 
in their former life. Cape Horn, bucko mates, 
poor grub, and other unpleasant nautical sub¬ 
jects were fully discussed. Finally it was unani¬ 
mously decided not to leave their present 
warm, comfortable quarters, where they had all 
night in. 


64 


MY DITTY BAG 


Under these circumstances it became a real 
problem how to get these unwelcome guests 
back to the upper world. 

At this time it was customary to serve grog 
on shipboard, and one of the principal com¬ 
plaints made by the sailors was that their liquor 
supply was cut off. An old boatswain told Satan 
that he would get these fellows out if he could 
have a permanent job below, with tobacco and 
rum included. This being agreed to, the old 
man went outside the gates and piped his whis¬ 
tle for grog. The eager seamen promptly re¬ 
sponded, and all rushed out to the grateful and 
familiar sound. Satan, however, did not keep 
his promise, but with his usual deceit and perfidy 
shut the gates, and there have never been any 
sailors sent to hell since. As they were not 
qualified for a better fate, they and their suc¬ 
cessors have been turned into Mother Carey’s 
chickens. 


VIII 

Shanghaied Sailors 

“The old man he goes sailing, 

For he’s gathered in a crew; 

We’ve various Turks and infidels, 

We’ve most things but a Jew. 

He’s got the pick of all the stiffs 
From Panama to Nome, 

And will make them into sailors 
On the long road home.” 

N the palmy days of our mer¬ 
cantile marine, good sailors, 
or even sailors of any kind, 
were in demand in most of 
the far-distant ports. After 
the discovery of gold in Cali¬ 
fornia, and during the era of 
prosperity that followed, it 
was quite common for the 
crews of all vessels arriving in San Francisco to 
desert their vessels immediately after their 
arrival. Wages were high; every man had an 
opportunity to make his fortune rapidly, and it 
is easy to understand how attractive the Cali- 
65 







66 


MY DITTY BAG 


fornia climate and unusual opportunities for 
advancement were to the sailors after a five 
months’ passage around Cape Horn. 

The same general conditions prevailed in 
Australia, and sailors were always scarce in 
China and on the West Coast of South America. 
In the far East this was due frequently to dis¬ 
ease as well as to desertion. Deserters were 
aided and abetted by the sailor boarding-house 
keepers and their employees, the runners, whose 
purpose it was to lure the arriving sailors into 
the so-called boarding-houses, to rob them, get 
them drunk, and re-ship them on some home¬ 
ward-bound vessel as soon as possible. 

To shanghai a seaman (meaning to put him 
on board a vessel in a drunken or drugged con¬ 
dition) became a common practice in many 
foreign ports. Morgan Robertson, in one of his 
novels, tells a very clever story of how a British 
Admiral was shanghaied on board of an Ameri¬ 
can vessel. Such an incident is not incompre¬ 
hensible if the admiral was of a convivial disposi¬ 
tion, and was not over-particular about the com¬ 
pany that he kept. To understand this method 
of obtaining seamen, assume that an American 
vessel in Melbourne has been loaded with wool 


SHANGHAIED SAILORS 


67 


for London, and is ready for sea. Most of the 
original crew deserted their ship on arrival, and 
the captain needs twelve sailors to complete his 
complement for the homeward voyage. He 
makes a trade with a boarding-house keeper to 
furnish twelve men for six pounds (thirty dol¬ 
lars) per head (this is called blood money); 
to pay them ten pounds per month wages, and 
to give three months’ advance notes to each 
sailor. These notes are payable three days 
after the ship sails, if the men are “receipted 
for” as being on board. If the real sailor who 
may ship under these conditions gets enough 
out of his thirty pounds advance to buy a few 
clothes, and money enough to pay for one 
drunk, he can consider that he has been well 
treated by the land sharks. 

These sailors would be regularly shipped at 
the office of the United States Consul, and sign 
shipping articles: 

“To proceed in the good ship - to London; 

thence to such port or ports in any part of the world as 
the Master may direct; thence to final port of discharge 
in the United States, within a period of two years.” 


Assume that half of these men were real 



68 


MY DITTY BAG 


sailors, who were capable of seeking profitable 
employment, and who intended to sail in the 
vessel as they agreed. The remainder of the men 
were in the employ of the boarding-house 
keepers, and signed such common names to the 
articles as “John Smith,” “Ole Olsen,” “Wil¬ 
liam Mahoney.” 

In one instance that I know of, when the 
crimps knew in advance that they were going 
to shanghai a local tailor, they signed the name 
of Louis Lapidowitz to the articles. The first 
information poor Louis had that he was to sail 
as an able seaman was when he found himself 
on a ship well outside of the Golden Gate, and 
bound for Europe. 

Usually when ready for sea a vessel would be 
towed to the outer anchorage of a port, or to 
some berth from which it was easy to get under 
way without being among the crowded ship¬ 
ping. On the night before sailing, the crew was 
brought on board by the boarding-house run¬ 
ners, always at a late hour. The regular sailors 
had been having what might be termed a last 
legitimate drunk. The victims were drunk and 
drugged. As the men crawled or were assisted 
up the gangway the mate read their names from 


SHANGHAIED SAILORS 


69 


the shipping articles, and they answered, “Aye, 
aye, sir,” or “Here.” The mate then sent them 
forward to the forecastle to turn in until day¬ 
light. The night was dark, and there was much 
noise and confusion incident to the gathering 
together of fifteen or twenty rough drunken 
sailors. Rows, remonstrances, or shrieking were 
easily quelled by a stiff slug under the jaw. The 
crimps had delivered the goods, and took no 
chances on losing any of the men brought on 
board, which would mean that the captain would 
stop payment of certain “advance” notes, as 
well as refuse to pay the per capita blood 
money. When the names of Smith, Mahoney, 
and Olsen were called, the runner having these 
men in charge did not have to be much of a 
ventriloquist to answer “Here, sir” in a way to 
satisfy the mate, who checked off these men as 
being on board, in accordance with their con¬ 
tract. The most important duty of the mate 
was to examine his crew, and make sure that 
none of them were cripples or invalids. 

At daybreak the second mate would turn out 
from the forecastle such occupants as were able 
to stand after their debauch, and compel them 
to “man the windlass.” Or if any trouble was 


70 


MY DITTY BAG 


expected a gang of longshoremen would be em¬ 
ployed to weigh anchor and make fast the tow 
line, and the crew were not disturbed until the 
vessel was well down the bay and ready to 
make sail. Oaths, kicks, cuffs and belaying pins 
aided the mates to arouse the sailors, and get 
them to loose and hoist the sails. 

The poor fellow under the nom de mer of 
Olsen had very likely never been on a ship be¬ 
fore. Sick, frightened, and with his head thick 
and throbbing from the dope that he had taken 
the night before, he might venture to ask some 
question, or make some gentle remonstrance, 
when one of the mates would hit him a welt, 
damn his eyes, tell him to “shut up,” and to 
“get a hold on that rope.” If Ole was wise he 
obeyed. 

Smith may have been less submissive to his 
surroundings, and refused to work or to answer 
to his name, telling the mate that Smith was 
not his name. The mate would curse him and 
say, “Smith was your name last night.” “No, 
sir, it was not.” Here the poor landsman was 
punched, kicked and cursed in a frightful man¬ 
ner. The indignant officer would say, “Call me 
a liar, will you,” and, aroused by this breach of 


SHANGHAIED SAILORS 


71 


discipline, would give the unfortunate John a 
few extra kicks as a salve to his wounded 
dignity. 

The captain, noticing the fracas, might in¬ 
quire, “Mr. Mate, what is the trouble?” “Man 
insulted me, sir, and tried to strike me, sir.” 
“Put him in irons and down in the lazarette.” 
“Aye, aye, sir,” and that was the last of Smith 
until he repented. The entry in the official log 
book for the benefit of the United States Consul 
at the next port, if he was interested, would be 
as follows: 

“About four bells in the morning’s watch John Smith, 
who shipped as A. B. Seaman, was insolent, refused 
to obey orders, and violently assaulted the chief offi¬ 
cer, for which he was put in irons and placed in soli¬ 
tary confinement for forty-eight hours, being given 
bread and three quarts of water per day, in accordance 
with the law. On promise of good behavior he was 
permitted to return to his duty.” 

John was likely to be docile and obedient for 
the remainder of the voyage. 

William Mahoney may have been more com¬ 
bative, and vigorously persisted in his request 
to see the captain. Whether or not his request 
was granted would depend on the whim of the 


72 


MY DITTY BAG 


mates. Sometimes he would get to the quarter 
deck, when the officer would report to the cap¬ 
tain, “Mahoney wants to see you, sir.” The 
outraged and indignant Hibernian would prob¬ 
ably exclaim in a loud and disrespectful tone of 
voice, “My name ain’t Mahoney,” whereupon 
various things were likely to happen with aston¬ 
ishing quickness. If it was dark, or no one 
was around but the man at the wheel, the cap¬ 
tain, from his superior height on the top of the 
house, might give Bill a swift kick on the side 
of his head; maybe he would descend to the 
quarter deck and condescend to use his fists on 
the insolent Irishman, or a handy belaying pin 
might be used with forceful effect, but Bill was 
sure to receive the worst tirade of abuse and 
blasphemy that he had ever listened to. A ver¬ 
batim report would not look well in print, but 
the old man would commonly close his remarks 

as follows: “You - dirty, lazy Irish swab. 

You - stowaway, what are you doing on 

board my ship? Get along forward to work, or 
I’ll (more horrible threats) -yer.” 

Now this was not an appropriate occasion for 
any eloquent or extensive remarks. Brilliant 
repartee would not be in good form, and even 





SHANGHAIED SAILORS 


73 


sound and conclusive arguments would prove of 
no avail. The captain, in order that he might 
not see anything that he did not want to see, dis¬ 
creetly and dignifiedly walked over to the 
weather deck. Bill thought it wise to obey 
orders, and retreated along the lee side. As he 
descended the steps to the main deck, the mate 
repeated the sentiments of his commander, and 
emphasized the practical application thereof by 
punching Bill’s head in passing. Bill might 
attempt to retaliate in kind. In that case, if the 
mate was a fighter, and was sure he could “lick 
his man,” he gave Bill a sound thrashing. If 
Mahoney looked like a tough customer to 
handle, then the second mate, who was always 
on hand, also slugged Bill with his fist, or any 
convenient weapon. The result was always the 
same. The seaman was beaten, cowed, and 
manhandled into submission with whatever bru¬ 
tality was thought necessary. By this time, too, 
the Pacific swell added to the discomfort of poor 
Bill. He had hardly recovered from the effects 
of his drugging the night before. And thus Ole, 
John and Bill were “made into sailors on the 
long road home.” 

A well-known story of shanghaiing avers that 


74 


MY DITTY BAG 


on one occasion when the boarding-house repre¬ 
sentatives brought their load of men on deck 
from the small boat one of the crimps said very 
respectfully to a careless mate, “Got John Smith 
here, sir, but he is very drunk. Shall we take 
him forward, sir?” The mate being busy, green, 
or neglectful of his duty, said, “All right.” John 
was carried to the forecastle, and was found 
next morning in one of the bunks, stiff, stark 
dead—undoubtedly having been brought on 
board in this condition; but the boarding-house 
crowd made perhaps two hundred dollars on the 
advance note and blood money, and the ship 
being at sea there was no redress. 

Once when I was in Rio Janeiro a captain of 
a large English ship showed me a fine strapping 
young Irishman who, as a policeman in San 
Francisco, had incurred the ill-will of some of 
the saloon keepers. He remembered taking one 
drink, and then found himself on the broad 
Pacific. 



IX 


China and the Chinese 

I N 1882 the Chinese Exclusion Act was 
passed unexpectedly, and a few months 
only were to elapse before it was to go into 
effect. One result of this legislation was to 
create an urgent demand for vessels in Chinese 
waters to carry Chinese passengers to American 
ports before the effective date of exclusion. 

Regular Oriental liners were not available, 
and most English and foreign vessels were char- 
75 












76 


MY DITTY BAG 


tered out and back, so that American vessels 
in Eastern ports (most of them being disen¬ 
gaged), had a chance to get very remunerative 
business. 

My vessel was chartered to take three hun¬ 
dred passengers to Victoria, Vancouver Island, 
and the Chinese were supposed to be engaged 
to work on the new Canadian Pacific Railroad. 
In going from one English port to another we 
came under the requirements of the British Emi¬ 
gration Act. We had to buy several additional 
lifeboats, sundry extra equipment, rockets, blue 
lights, life buoys, food to give the passengers 
the same rations that they would receive if they 
were emigrants on English-Atlantic steamers, 
and what shocked my thrifty New England pro¬ 
pensity was to be obliged to pay eight hundred 
dollars for medicines and surgical equipment, 
which seemed to me an awful waste of good 
money. 

As our Chinamen came on board they were 
told to go around the starboard alleyway, in 
line, to the quarter deck, where three physicians 
were busily engaged in vaccinating them and 
sending them forward on the port side. All 
went well for a while, when the foolish rumor 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 77 

was started that all the passengers were being 
branded as slaves. At once there was a wild 
stampede. Several jumped overboard and were 
picked up by the police boats, but one fellow 
was so nearly drowned that he had to be taken 
to the hospital on shore. Two hours elapsed 
before order was restored and explanations 
made by the interpreters, and our sailing was 
delayed until dark. 

There being no regular physician on board it 
was my duty to inspect my Chinese passengers 
twice a day, and to prescribe such medicine as 
I thought was necessary. 

I was greatly impressed with the cleanliness 
of these poor coolies. The between decks were 
crowded with so many occupants, but the bed¬ 
ding and wearing apparel and other belongings 
of these poor people were scrupulously clean 
and neat. The voyage across the Northern Pa¬ 
cific is quite cold, and yet about half of these 
passengers would go on deck every morning and 
strip to the waist, and take a vigorous cleansing 
salt water bath. I do not know of the people of 
any other nation who would have been as 
cleanly at as great an inconvenience to them¬ 
selves. 


78 


MY DITTY BAG 


We had twenty cooks, and the main hatch 
was utilized for the necessary fireplaces and 
kettles. All of the food prepared by the China¬ 
men was carefully washed and kept clean. The 
huge baskets of boiled rice, even under dis¬ 
advantageous conditions, was better cooked 
than it is today at most American clubs and 
hotels. 

The Chinese are not accustomed to medical 
attention, and such as they receive is of very 
doubtful quality. At first when I would dis¬ 
cover a sick passenger, or one who was lame and 
required attention, they were all very suspi¬ 
cious. Many of them were suffering from sores 
of long standing. After I gave them castile 
soap and carbolic acid, and later a healing oint¬ 
ment, and began to get results from the simple 
remedies of the American pharmacopoeia the 
number of my patients increased daily. Before 
we reached Victoria I am confident that I had a 
very good reputation as a Medicine Man. 

One day a Chinaman fell from between decks 
to the lower hall, and landed on some rock bal¬ 
last. It was convenient to attend him under the 
light of the forward hatch, and I had quite an 
admiring audience. After I had shaved the 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 


79 


patient’s head, inserted a few stitches, put on 
adhesive plaster, and finally set a simple frac¬ 
ture of his arm in splints, it was evident my 
“gallery” regarded the operation as quite won¬ 
derful. 

I had six tubs of Epsom salts, the salvage 
value of which would not have been large when 
we returned to New York. So this excellent 
medicine I distributed quite freely. I gave a 
mixture of tolu, squills and epicac for coughs, 
which, to say the least, was more efficacious 
than the medicine ordinarily given by Chinese 
doctors. 

As far as I was concerned my three hundred 
Chinamen would have been landed in much 
better order and condition than when they left 
Hongkong had it not been that while lying in 
quarantine at Esquimault they attached some 
hooks to floating box covers and managed to 
get some of the kelp, which they used as greens, 
and, from eating this, three of the Chinamen 
died after they reached Victoria. 

We arrived in Victoria only two days before 
the Chinese Exclusion Act went into effect, and 
the Chinamen at Port Townsend sent a large 
side-wheel steamer to take their fellow China- 


80 


MY DITTY BAG 


men to the United States and get their American 
papers. I think the Canadian Pacific Road suf¬ 
fered from the non-arrival of the Chinese work¬ 
men it expected. 

In addition to the beef, pork, rice, flour, peas, 
beans, etc., that the English law required us to 
furnish, our Chinese charterers provided a large 
quantity of fish, antiquated eggs, dried ducks, 
and other Chinese delicacies, which were dis¬ 
tributed every fourth day, and the Chinese chow 
was more appreciated than the European. 

When we crossed the one hundred and 
eightieth meridian we gained a day, and as we 
had more salt beef than anything else I told the 
second mate, who served out provisions, to give 
the Chinamen meat for the second day in suc¬ 
cession. We had rather a rough night, and 
early in the morning the steward told me that 
the Chinese supercargo wanted to see me. 

I got out of bed feeling cross and ugly. I was 
greeted by the question, “What for pay he 
Chinamen beefu—he no wantee beefu.” I said, 
“Earth round; ship come a long way; every day 
make a gain ten, fifteen, twenty minutes; mak¬ 
ing gain too much; must go back; have two 
piecee Thursday; alle samee week.” 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 81 

The venerable Chinaman, who had a mus¬ 
tache of ten hairs—four on the starboard side 
and six on the port, stroked his gray hairs medi¬ 
tatively, and seemed very much dazed. 

He had evidently been under the impression 
that the earth was flat. He repeated, “No 
savee.” I tried again to enlarge upon my nauti¬ 
cal description of the world’s geography, but 
made a dismal failure. 

Being tired, impatient and disgusted, I told 
the supercargo to get out of the cabin, and I 
returned to bed, only to be aroused in a few 
minutes by a tumult and confused shuffling of 
feet on deck. I found that nearly all the pas¬ 
sengers were on the deck, and that having 
chased the supercargo aft to a secure position, 
they were threatening him with all kinds of ven¬ 
geance in Chinese. It seemed the conclusion 
reached was that the supercargo and I had con¬ 
spired together and decided to use more beef 
and save the Chinese chow to sell in Victoria. 
The idea that we had gained a day in going 
around the world did not impress our passen¬ 
gers, and the poor supercargo was in bad stand¬ 
ing all the voyage. He did not dare, in fact, to 
come out of his room in the after part of the 
forward house after dark. 


82 


MY DITTY BAG 


I first visited China in 1876, and the follow¬ 
ing is a verbatim extract from a journal I kept 
at that time and sent home to my family: 

“While in Shanghai I had the pleasure, 
through the kindness of an American resident, 
of attending a genuine Chinese dinner. One 
evening, about six o’clock, a party of us assem¬ 
bled at this gentleman’s house, where we were 
introduced to our host for the evening, Fong 
Tah, a fine intelligent-looking Chinaman, and 
Compradore for Messrs. Frazer & Co., one of 
the leading firms of Shanghai, and we were soon 
in jinrickshaws on the way to our entertain¬ 
ment. We alighted at the “Maloo” (the prin¬ 
cipal Chinese street), opposite a large two-story 
building, brilliantly lighted, and partitioned off 
into many rooms of comfortable size, into one 
of which we were ushered, and introduced to 
two other Chinese friends of our host, Ching 
Chang and Faw Chung. 

“The room was comfortably furnished with 
sofas, chairs, etc. In the center was a large 
table spread with many strange dishes, which I 
will endeavor to describe soon. Near each chair 
was a small table, having on it cups of tea 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 83 

(which we were assured cost twelve dollars per 
pound). These were frequently replenished by 
the attendants, and proved a delicious overture 
to the ensuing feast. The wall was hung with 
mottoes and large printings, which he explained 
to us were the sayings of Confucius and other 
eminent Chinamen. The room was decorated 
further with some Chinese pictures, which were 
not particularly beautiful. 

“Cigars and Chinese pipes were passed around, 
and in Chinese assemblies it is customary to 
spend an hour or two in conversation, just as a 
whet to the appetite, but, as we were Europeans, 
and had not been to supper and were eager to 
commence operations, this period was mercifully 
shortened. Fong Tah explained that this was 
not his own house, but a large restaurant, cele¬ 
brated among the Chinese as Delmonico’s is in 
New York, and he had brought us here instead 
of going to his own residence, as it was more 
fashionable so to do. 

“About 7.30 o’clock the waiters brought in 
hot steamed napkins for each guest. This is a 
great improvement on our custom at home, for 
after every course these napkins are brought in, 
and they serve very nicely to obviate the sticky 


84 


MY DITTY BAG 


feeling one always has around the face and 
fingers where dry napkins are used. 

“The Chinese do not condescend to remove 
their hats either at meals or in the theater, but 
sit down covered. During the conversation pre¬ 
ceding dinner they assiduously devote them¬ 
selves to eating watermelon seeds, a favorite 
amusement with them, and it is surprising what 
a quantity of them they will dispose of in a short 
time. We all ate these seeds and pronounced 
them a clever device for passing away the time 
before the more substantial dishes make their 
appearance. 

“On the table before us, very tastefully 
arranged, were the following dishes (these are 
not considered among the regular courses, but 
only as a sort of dessert, or side dishes, to pre¬ 
cede or follow whatever courses the guests may 
desire): 

Side Dishes 

Shrimp and Chicken Kidney and Cockles 

Duck and Bamboo Shoots Ham and Spinach 

Oranges, divided into small pieces Water Nuts 

Citron, Olives, Limes, Melon Seeds, 

Jellies 

“Many other fruits, nuts and sauces occupied 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 


85 


prominent places, and each guest had by his 
plate a saucer of ‘soy,’ or vinegar, into which 
to dip his food. After a few minutes the regular 
courses were brought in, in the following order: 

1st Course 

Birds’ Nest Soup (Costing $30.00 per pound) 

2d Course 

Pigs’ Tripe (Stewed) 

3d Course 

Pigeon Eggs Stewed in Gelatine 

Intermission a few minutes—Napkins, Pipes and 
Champagne passed around. 

4th Course 

Stewed Fish and Bamboo 
Sth Course 

Roast Duck and Pancake 
6th Course 

Pudding, Cake and Almond Tea 
Intermission as before 
7th Course 

Sharks’ Fins with Gelatine 
8th Course 
Minced Pork 
9th Course 
Stewed Mushrooms 

Regular intermission after every three courses to the 
end. 


86 


MY DITTY BAG 


10th Course 

-Sieved Ducks’ Tongues 
'O 11th Course 

Sandju Jelly, Fruit and Pudding 
"v-12th Course 
Pork Pie 

13 th Course 

Roast Pig (cut in little bits, each of them just a mouth¬ 
ful, and the crisp skin, when smoking hot, 

Was delicious.) 

14 th Course 

Jelly 

15 th Course 
Pork and Curry 

16th Course 
Fish 

“As a finale, fish, fowl and many roast meats 
were placed on the table, winding up with what 
we usually begin with, but by this time the edge 
of our appetites was somewhat blunted and 
these last dishes only seemed a sort of ornament, 
nobody attacking them very vigorously. Be¬ 
tween each course Chinese pipes were passed 
around, and champagne was freely circulated, 
especially among our Chinese friends, it being 
their favorite beverage. Whenever a Chinaman 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 87 

is rich enough to afford any wines or liquor, 
champagne is always his choice. 

“At the outset we were only provided with 
chopsticks, which we so wielded as to give much 
amusement to our host. We got along ‘mid¬ 
dling well’ until the third course, but when it 
came to fishing a pigeon egg out of a cup of 
gelatine we all ‘passed/ so after that we were 
provided with European knives and forks. 

“The plates, saucers, cups, etc., were very 
minute—a plate being about the size of one of 
our saucers at home. “Samshoo,” or Chinese 
rice wine, was served hot, in little cups about 
the size of a thimble. It very much resembles 
sherry in flavor. Besides the dishes I was en¬ 
abled to get the names of, there were many 
others of mysterious content, but generally 
seeming to have pork or duck for a base, cooked, 
however, in a different manner. 

As soon as the dinner was fairly under way a 
number of Chinese singing girls were ushered 
into the apartment, and, seating themselves in 
vacant chairs, in turn entertained us with music 
or singing throughout our stay. No Chinese 
dinner is considered complete without the pres¬ 
ence of these fair damsels. The mandarins 


88 


MY DITTY BAG 


usually own a sufficient number of these girls to 
entertain their guests, but the lower classes have 
to hire their attendance for the evening. 

“Our host owned two or three of our attend¬ 
ants, and his friend two or three of the others. 
Their ages ranged from sixteen to twenty, and 
they were dressed in the height of Chinese 
fashion, each attended by her ‘amah’ (or 
female servant), carrying a little box, in which 
were a mirror, combs and other utensils instru¬ 
mental to making up a toilet. Again, the 
‘amah’ carried whatever musical instrument her 
mistress chose to use. 

“I was too much engaged to notice the 
minute details of the apparel of these ladies, 
but to my uneducated eyes it seemed very much 
to resemble European fashions. They wore 
silks and satins, richly trimmed and ornamented 
with silver buttons. Their feet were perhaps 
four inches long, and very beautiful. Their 
hair was elaborately dressed, very high in front, 
a large headdress of pearls, and jadestone and 
other Chinese jewelry surmounted the forehead 
on top of the hair. Their arms and fingers were 
protected from roughness by tin tubes about 
three inches long being drawn over them, and 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 89 

their hands looked very much like claws when 
each finger was covered with one of these; but 
when they removed them they disclosed remark¬ 
ably soft and pretty hands—a feature deemed 
essential to a thoroughly beautiful Chinese 
‘belle.’ 

“At first the girls seemed rather embarrassed 
at being so near Europeans, but soon became 
self-possessed, and laughed among themselves 
as though they seemed to enjoy the fun. Their 
features were subjected to a sharp criticism, 
the gentlemen having, indeed, quite an animated 
discussion as regards Chinese beauty compared 
with European. Being the youngest present I 
did not assert my opinion particularly, but 
thought all the same that many of our ‘musi¬ 
cians’ would not shame any part of the world as 
far as beauty was concerned. 

“There is a beautiful, mild and gentle expres¬ 
sion in the face of these girls. The average 
Chinese woman of Shanghai is ‘as homely as a 
mud fence,’ but these girls came from Suchau 
and other places in the interior, celebrated for 
the beauty of their females, where they are 
bought young and carefully educated for the 
position in life which they are to fill. That po- 


90 


MY DITTY BAG 


sition among the Chinese is not at all considered 
dishonorable. The girls’ singing was very sweet, 
and sometimes musical, although entirely differ¬ 
ent from European. Their song is more down 
in their throat, somewhat resembling a hum¬ 
ming, but louder and more distinct. They were 
not invited to partake of the repast before us, 
except to drink champagne gallantly handed 
them by some of the gentlemen. Their man¬ 
ners were very pretty, simple, and unassum¬ 
ing, and their presence added to the enjoyment 
of the evening very much. 

“Our party breaking up about 11.30 o’clock 
we ‘returned home,’ as we used to say in com¬ 
positions, highly pleased ‘with our trip.’ 

“If I could only remember my dreams that 
night I am confident they would prove more 
interesting than my actual experience. How¬ 
ever pleasant Chinese delicacies may be to the 
Chinese, I am satisfied that a European would 
not thrive on the same diet.” 

More than forty years later, when I visited 
Shanghai on a tour around the world, our party 
was most generously and hospitably entertained 
by Dr. and Mrs. Fearn, of St. Louis, who gave 


CHINA AND THE CHINESE 


91 


us a dinner almost identical with the one I had 
eaten forty years previously. It was during the 
Chinese New Year’s season, when it is a very 
pleasant custom among Chinese servants to 
entertain their employers and friends one night 
during the New Year. We were fortunate 
enough to be able to take advantage of this 
opportunity. The dinner was excellent, the 
service faultless, and the servant-hosts earnestly 
intent upon making their guests feel at home 
and giving the best attention possible. I have 
never known of any servants in this country 
having the same desire to express appreciation 
to their employers. 


X 

Krakatoa 


ARLY in 1883 the barque 
under my command had come 
around Cape Horn and Cape 
of Good Hope and discharged 
her cargo from Victoria, Van¬ 
couver Island, at Port Natal, 
East Africa. 

Due to the Zulu war there 
was an usually large number 
of ships at Port Natal, and very few oppor¬ 
tunities to get any cargo there. So, in sea 
parlance, we were obliged to go “seeking” to 
get a charter for the United States, and cleared 
the ship, as was customary in the sailing-ship 
days, for Guam, which was a far distant island, 
inhabited only by a few natives. If a vessel 
arrived in Batavia, Manila, or any port in the 
Far East claiming to have been in Guam as her 
last port of call, no one could dispute the claim, 
as there were no authorities there to furnish the 
usual clearance papers. 

The custom of clearing for Guam was very 
92 




KRAKATOA 


93 


old, and probably originated when a large num¬ 
ber of vessels had discharged their cargoes 
and were obliged to go elsewhere for homeward 
business. Each shipmaster wished to observe 
secrecy as to where his vessel was going, and a 
clearance for Guam was the equivalent to a cap¬ 
tain saying that it was nobody’s business where 
his vessel was bound for. 

We cleared for Guam in ballast, to keep up 
the nautical fiction, and in a few weeks arrived 
at Anjer, Java. After sending several cable¬ 
grams to various eastern ports soliciting busi¬ 
ness we secured a charter from Singapore to 
Boston. Cargoes from Singapore were much 
more valuable than most of the bulk or usual 
cargoes. We had ingots of tin in the lower hold 
as dunnage, and I was surprised to see how 
small a quantity of tin it took to be worth one 
hundred thousand dollars. Pepper, spices, gam- 
bier, cotton matting and sundry eastern prod¬ 
ucts made a total insurable value of over five 
hundred thousand dollars for our cargo. 

While waiting at Anjer I saw the original 
volcanic eruptions of Krakatoa, which devel¬ 
oped in a few weeks into one of the greatest 
disasters of modern times. 


94 


MY DITTY BAG 


Krakatoa is an island situated at the entrance 
of Sunda Strait, which is the highway for all 
sailing vessels going to China from Java, Japan, 
Philippine Islands and the Far Eastern ports. 
The cone-shaped peaks of Krakatoa were excel¬ 
lent landmarks, and were known to all navi¬ 
gators of the Eastern Seas. The island is about 
seven miles long and four miles wide, and the 
volcano thereon had not been active for more 
than one hundred years until a short time prior 
to my arrival at Anjer. 

It was quite common for vessels to stop at 
Anjer for a few days, either to wait for charters 
or, if homeward bound, to buy fresh vegetables, 
fruit, eggs, chickens, etc. The usual price of 
eggs was one dollar, Mexican, per hundred, and 
chickens one dollar per dozen. After a few days 
the old sailors would growl at having been fed 
with too many chickens and would insist on re-** 
ceiving their good salt beef and pork. Many 
kinds of birds and animals were also cheap, and 
the decks of a homeward bounder looked like a 
menagerie, with a choice collection of Java deer, 
ten to twelve inches high—the smallest member 
of the deer family, and wonderfully graceful 


KRAKATOA 


95 


animals — many varieties of monkeys, large 
and small; cocoanut squirrels; Java sparrows; 
miners, parrakeets and cockatoos. Most of these 
birds and animals died before reaching New 
York. 

After being at sea for three or four months it 
was a very pleasant change to sleep in the neat, 
comfortable hotel kept by Captain Schutte at 
Anjer, and enjoy the fresh fruit and fine cook¬ 
ing. 

The last night that I was at the hotel I was 
rudely awakened by my bed shaking from my 
first experience with an earthquake shock. I 
was frightened, and went out in the hall, expect¬ 
ing to go out of doors, but Captain Schutte 
heard me and told me “Dat was nix,” and rather 
contemptuously advised me to go back to bed— 
but not to sleep. In the beautiful moonlight I 
-could see plainly from my window the flame and 
smoke of the volcano, and while I thought of 
many things before I went to sleep again the 
danger from Krakatoa never occurred to me. 

On my return passage through Sunda Straits 
a few weeks later the hotel was one hundred and 
twenty feet under water, and all the members 


96 


MY DITTY BAG 


of the Schutte family were drowned by the tidal 
wave except a son, who was visiting in Batavia, 
and when I arrived in Singapore I heard of the 
final eruption and awful calamity, which an eye¬ 
witness, Mr. Van Gestel, described in part as 
follows: 

“About eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, the thir¬ 
teenth day of May, 1883, the trouble began in the 
Island of Java. All Java, Sumatra and Borneo were 
convulsed. It was as though war had been declared 
underground. The surface of the earth rocked, houses 
tumbled down, and big trees fell out of the earth, as 
if it had ejected their roots. 

“Thursday there came a telegram from the City of 
Anjer, ninety miles away, on the northwest coast of 
Java, that a volcano had broken out on the Island of 
Krakatoa. 

“About midnight we cleared St. Nicholas Point, which 
is the extreme northerly extension of the Island of Java. 
As we rounded it we saw ascending from Krakatoa, 
about fifty miles away to the southwest, an immense 
column of fire and what appeared to be smoke. The 
sky was yet clear, for the most part, but we could see 
no apex to this column, whose composition changed as 
we watched it, steaming all the while toward the Island. 
First it looked like flame, and then it would appear to 
be steam, and again take the semblance of a pillar of 
fire inside of a column of white, fleecy wool. In another 



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THE SUNDA STRAITS 
Anjer Hill From the Northwest 



















































































KRAKATOA 


97 


instant these trailing, whirling masses of wool would 
hang from the very empyrean itself. All the while we 
heard the sullen, thunderous roar which had been a fear¬ 
ful feature of the situation ever since Sunday morning, 
and was now becoming louder.” 

Loaded vessels of considerable size were 
thrown up mountain sides five hundred miles 
away. The air over the American continents 
was filled with minute particles from the erup¬ 
tion, and six hundred miles away in the larger 
cities of Java it was necessary to burn lights for 
several days. 

A few weeks after the eruption, when I sailed 
through Sunda Strait the chart was almost use¬ 
less, as the contour of the land on the Java side 
was greatly changed, and it was impossible to 
tell what rocks or reefs might be concealed 
within a few feet of the surface of the water. 

I have some specimens of floating pumice 
stone that I found off the coast of New Guinea 
in the East, and as far west as Mauritius, and 
I read that some large pieces had even drifted 
into the Mediterranean. In the Java Sea you 
would sail through miles of this pumice, and 
some harbors were practically closed for a time 
even to steamers. 


98 


MY DITTY BAG 


During the World’s Fair in Chicago in 1893 I 
used to go frequently to the Malay Villages and 
talk to some of the natives, most of whom came 
from within one hundred miles of old Anjer, but 
I did not find a man who knew of the greatest 
volcanic disaster for many centuries. This I 
ascribe in part to Oriental callousness about 
loss of human life, and more directly to the fact 
that few Malay know or care about any event 
that occurs outside of their own villages. They 
are happy and contented and live their own 
lives, with very little interest in the affairs of 
the outside world. 

When I revisited Java in 1923 I was told that 
there were millions of the natives who had never 
heard of the World War, except, perhaps, in a 
vague, casual, impersonal manner. 


XI 

Amboyna 


[REE or four centuries ago 
Amboyna, the capital of the 
Molucca or Spice Islands, 
was the most important city 
in the Far East, and main¬ 
tained its supremacy for 
many years. 

Through the courtesy of 
our Dutch consignee, who 
placed his country place at our disposal, my 
young wife and I did our first housekeeping in 
this far-away island. We started operations 
with seven servants, employed at wages aggre¬ 
gating thirty dollars per month, but this was not 
as cheap as it sounds. 

We were supposed to feed them, and after a 
few weeks we found that we were also feeding 
their sisters, cousins, aunts, and relatives even 
unto the fourth generation. In fact, we were 
the main support of a small Malay village. For- 

99 







100 


MY DITTY BAG 


tunately rice, the principal article of diet, was 
cheap. 

Our head boy was a Mohammedan, and 
assumed arrogant airs over his fellow servants, 
who were Christians. As his English was 
slightly better than my Malay, he occupied a 
superior position in our household. When I 
suggested that my opened bottles of wine disap¬ 
peared very rapidly, he would say, with great 
pride, that his religion would not permit him 
to drink, and his feelings were hurt at my in¬ 
sinuation. 

Later, when my Dutch friend visited us, and 
abused the other servants in vigorous Malay, 
with a few Dutch swear words, they all pleaded 
innocence and insisted that they were all good 
Protestant Christians, and did not drink—much 
less steal. So as Dooley says, “There ye air.” 

From my journal, kept in 1884, I quote as 
follows: 

“Amboyna is situated on the right-hand side 
of a bay of the same name, some seven miles 
from its entrance. This bay is a broad sea 
inlet, running in like a funnel, and almost divid¬ 
ing the island. On each side are high hills, cov¬ 
ered with forest, or in places with high grass, 


AMBOYNA 


101 


and soft and lovely vegetation at the foot, the 
shades of green varying from the dark, tall trees 
to the fresh, pale grass. Along the shores are 
Malay villages, hidden by cocoanut groves. 

“Amboyna is one of the most beautiful bays 
that I have ever seen. After a week of down¬ 
pouring tropical rain we found ourselves, one 
bright, sunny afternoon, becalmed some three 
miles below Amboyna. All nature seemed re¬ 
juvenated, and put forth its brightest aspect. 
As we had several hours for contemplating the 
scenery—which is vividly impressed on my 
memory—I will attempt to reproduce the scene 
from the quarter deck of the Agate . Scarce 
half a mile on our port bow, on a small hill, were 
the remains, or rather the ruins, of an old fort, 
probably several centuries old. The various 
embankments, and the sloping approaches, were 
covered with a luxuriant growth of grass and 
moss of a peculiarly bright green; a bit of peb¬ 
bly beach at the foot of the hill and high forest 
in the background, and further back still the 
cloud-capped mountain top, with vaporous 
clouds hanging over the deeper valleys on the 
mountain side. 

“In the East Monsoon the Bay is always as 


102 


MY DITTY BAG 


smooth as a lake, and very deep. In most places 
a vessel can sail within a cable’s length of the 
shore and find no anchorage. Porpoises and all 
kinds of fish abound in the bay—seven hundred 
and eighty varieties being found around this 
island—more than in all Europe, according to 
the authority of Alfred Russel Wallace. 

“On our port quarter we had Cape Allang, 
and the strong tide rips and swell of the Arafura 
Sea, which would send high breakers against 
this rocky point, while within where we were 
was perfectly calm. On the other side a Malay 
village—a few proas hauled up on the beach, 
and the usual cocoanut trees. We could hear 
distinctly the women grinding rice, which they 
did with stones and a kind of mortar, just about 
as we read they did in Judea eighteen hundred 
years ago. Everything was so peaceful and still 
that toward supper time we heard many of the 
villagers preparing their rice, and the noise 
echoed from one side of the bay to the other. 

“A native rajah, or chief, passed quite close 
to us on his way to Amboyna. His canoe was 
painted gaudily, red, white and blue. A raised 
platform, with an awning, for his majesty; his 
own ensign waving in the stern, and several 


AMBOYNA 


103 


Dutch flags and streamers in every available 
place; about twenty oarsmen, and a full band, 
completed his retinue. The sharp racing-built 
canoe shot past us as though propelled by 
steam. I think it must have been some Malay 
fete day, for far into the night we heard, on 
both shores, the weird, monotonous music of the 
native ‘gammelong,’ and many fires and an un¬ 
usual amount of noise after dark seemed to 
indicate the populace was having a general good 
time. 

“On our starboard bow we had a fine view of 
Amboyna, the white houses and sparkling red- 
tiled roofs fairly smiling in the sunshine, and the 
circular mosque being very prominent. Fort 
Victoria and the extensive military buildings 
seemed to comprise most of the city, and the 
frequent bugle blasts told of the presence of a 
garrison. This was the only perceptible sign of 
life—not a European vessel in port, and the few 
native craft being hidden by a bend in the 
shore. Everything was so peaceful and quiet, 
the busy world seemed thousands of miles away; 
indeed it is really that to the Amboynese, as 
they have only one mail steamer a month. The 
arrival of a sailing ship is an event, and visitors 


104 


MY DITTY BAG 


such a rarity that there is no hotel. People are 
born, live, and die without having known what 
excitement or change was. 

“At the head of the bay the forest is denser, 
and comes unbroken down to the water, some 
trees probably being outside the high water 
mark. Like everything else hereabouts, the 
tides are slow, high water only once in twenty- 
four hours, and rise and fall as little as any 
reputable tide can do and keep up its reputation 
as a tide at all. 

“Amboyna is, I think, the oldest European 
settlement in the Far East. It has been suc¬ 
cessively in the hands of the Portuguese, Span¬ 
ish, Dutch, English, and again restored to the 
Dutch when the Vienna Congress finally 
adjusted the territory and colonies of Europe. 
How old this city may be I do not know. One 
Sunday evening we strolled into a quaint old 
church, which a time-worn stone tablet an¬ 
nounced was built in 1592. The pulpit and 
some of the furniture was very antique, of hand¬ 
some dark wood, curiously carved, and the dull, 
cracked varnish that speaks of age. 

“The natives of the city of Amboyna are 
mostly Protestants, the only Malay race that I 


AMBOYNA 


105 


know of that has adopted any other form of 
religion than the Mohammedan. Judging from 
outward appearances the people are very re¬ 
ligious, regular in church attendance, and in 
keeping many holy days and other ceremonials, 
apparently adopted from the Catholics. On 
Sundays the Christian women all wear a peculiar 
shiny black dress, with perhaps a bit of white tie 
or lace, but no colors or any of the gorgeous 
apparels that are seen in our churches. This 
simple costume might be adopted at home with 
advantage. Their unassuming garb serves as a 
distinction, being supposed to denote humility 
and a certain degree of equality among church¬ 
goers. Parents give their children Bible names, 
in the Puritan fashion, Manassah F. Paul being 
the cognomen of our butcher. Scriptural names 
are very common in the Christian community. 

“The Amboynese are lighter colored, larger, 
and better built than any others I have seen in 
the East. They strike out from the shoulder in 
real English style, which is a remarkable char¬ 
acteristic in an Asiatic. They fight and forgive, 
but on the whole they are a very light-hearted 
race, fond of music, quiet and civil, and fairly 
well educated—all being able to read and 


106 


MY DITTY BAG 


write Dutch. Undoubtedly they are the hap¬ 
piest people I have ever seen. Their wants are 
few, so they have the reputation of being lazy, 
which I think undeserved. They show good 
sense in not doing unnecessary work. 

“When we went in to the wharf we had a 
good deal of extra work to do, and twenty or 
thirty strong men jumped on board and helped 
carry our kedge anchors, heave away on hauling 
lines, and otherwise render valuable assistance, 
without expecting any pay. No other crowd of 
wharf loafers in the world would have done the 
like. While the ship was discharging coal they 
were always singing and joking among them¬ 
selves, a favorite amusement being to shove an 
unsuspecting workman off the head of the pier 
into the water. Or sometimes the men would 
catch all the urchins within reach and throw 
them, with much force, into the water, they all 
being expert swimmers. 

“As soldiers they are the best and bravest in 
the Dutch Indies, having greatly distinguished 
themselves in the Atchen War. Their home 
militia is constantly drilling, has a fine band, 
and they take much interest in military pursuits. 

“Fort Victoria is large and imposing, and has 


AMBOYNA 


107 


a fine avenue of shade trees within its walls. 
The post office and all the Government offices 
are within the enclosure. An old-fashioned 
moat, full of stagnant, green water, surrounds 
the embankments on the land side, and the bay 
on the other. I am not very well posted on 
such subjects, but I fancy this fort would not 
stand a vigorous attack from the ironclads of 
the present day. 

“The nutmeg trees, which are very common, 
are in fruit or blossom nearly all the year round. 
They have a yellow flower, and the fruit is 
something like an unripe peach, with petals on 
the outside. When green they make a very 
nice preserve, which we find will not keep 
long enough to take home. All the best nut¬ 
megs and most of the cloves in the world come 
from Banda, Amboyna, and a few neighboring 
islands.” 

“Most of the beautiful birds of Paradise are 
found in Western Guinea, the Arrou and other 
Molucca Islands, for which Amboyna is the 
nearest port. In the forests are found many of 
the birds having the most beautiful and highly 
colored plumage in the world, but none of them 
sing. Mrs. Brown had a fine singing canary, 


108 


MY DITTY BAG 


which we hung on our veranda, and every 
morning after breakfast the most prominent old 
Malay chief in the neighborhood would come 
and sit on the far comer of our veranda, rolling 
his straw-colored cigarette, and in silence listen 
to the canary until lunch time, day after day. 
He probably had never before heard a bird sing. 



XII 

The Girls and the Sailors 

P HRA, the Phoenician, was a famous mar¬ 
iner two thousand years ago, and sailed 
through the Grecian Archipelago, beyond 
to Syracuse, and to the old site of Marseilles. 
He also voyaged on the unknown seas found 
after passing the Pillars of Hercules, even reach¬ 
ing Cornwall and bringing back the ingots of 
tin to the traders of Tyre. 

Phra was commonly known as The Sailor, and 
waxed rich; and as was common in those aays, 
he took unto himself several wives, who kept 
him from being lonely and homesick when he 

109 








110 


MY DITTY BAG 


made his long voyages. In appreciation of his 
wealth his fellow citizens said, with admiration, 
“Sailor has a wife in every port.” This saying, 
coming down through the centuries, has been 
distorted into an undeserved reproach against 
all sailor men, conveying the impression that 
the poor feminines have suffered at the hands 
of the gay and gallant mariners. Harry Lauder 
was the first to question this tradition with the 
pertinent observation that if a sailor had a wife 
in every port, “Then take my tip, a sailor’s wife 
has a man on every ship.” 

“So far as I can judge by my own observation, 
the ladies in every longitude have been amply 
able to look out for themselves for many years, 
and if we may trust George Bernard Shaw and 
certain other philosophers the statement would 
hold good from the time of King Tut, and prob¬ 
ably before. However, the point I wish to make 
is that the poor sailors were more frequently 
fooled than the fair maidens were beguiled. 
Anyway, listen to the tale of Mary McLean. 

As you walk up the main wharf at Auckland, 
New Zealand, you find a comfortable-looking 
hostelry, with the sign, “The Thames Inn,” 
which was much frequented by those who go 


THE GIRLS AND THE SAILORS 111 


down to the sea in ships. One end of the hotel 
had on the doors and windows the simple sign 
“Bar.” Adjoining this was a more pretentious 
apartment, neatly curtained and decorated, with 
the artistic sign in small letters, “Private Bar.” 

The big bar was patronized by sailors, steve¬ 
dores, dock wallopers, and the proletariat gen¬ 
erally, but the private bar was reserved for cap¬ 
tains, chief engineers, chief officers, brokers, 
ship chandlers, and charterers and consignees 
having business with the captains. The room 
was cozy, with a bright coal fire always in the 
grate, comfortable chairs and convenient tables, 
sporting prints on the walls, and a neat com¬ 
plete brass-railed bar at the end of the room, 
to say nothing of smoking accessories, all pre¬ 
sided over by the beautiful and typical “Miss 
Mary McLean,” a fine representative of the 
British barmaid. 

Please bear in mind that I am writing of a 
very wicked custom, prevalent many years ago, 
and ten thousand miles away. Mary was a 
bonnie Scotch lassie, with sweet blue eyes, 
brown hair, plump and petite, and pretty 
enough to have been a movie star if she had 
lived forty years later. She usually wore a soft 


112 


MY DITTY BAG 


black dress, fitting close and buttoned in the 
back, a simple pin clasping her white collar, and 
a colored ribbon in her hair. Mary looked 
sweet, simple, demure, and attractive, particu¬ 
larly to a newly arrived mariner who had been 
at sea four months in company only with a lot 
of tough sailors. 

If young, the mariner was very likely to be 
sympathetic and sentimental, and the cheerful 
greeting of Miss Mary was sweet music to 
his masculine soul. After two pots of “arf & 
arf,” which was a beastly, dark colored liquid 
(drawn from the wood, by means of bright 
metel levers), and which, I grieve to say, con¬ 
tained more than one-half of one per cent of 
alcohol, an entente cordiale was fairly well 
established. 

Mary was friendly, and quite communicative. 
She recommended the cigars smoked by the 
most particular gentlemen; she stated, in strict 
confidence, that she was very fond of the sea 
and sailors—she meant real sailors, not steam¬ 
boat men, unless she was talking to engineers, 
when she used the reverse English and spoke 
contemptuously of the wind-jammers. By the 
following day, when poor Jack revisited the 


THE GIRLS AND THE SAILORS 113 


Thames, he was “hooked” properly. Indeed it 
was usually unnecessary for Mary to use any 
of her large reserve stock of blandishments. 

In the course of conversation Mary admitted 
that next to sailors she dearly loved horses, and 
promptly an invitation was issued by her ad¬ 
mirer to “take a drive tomorrow night,” at which 
Mary was shocked, horrified, alarmed, and 
almost broke into tears. “Nothing like that” 
—her mother would never permit her to drive 
in the evening with any young man! In due 
course Mary was reassured and comforted, and 
timidly intimated that perhaps Mama would 
permit her to take a short ride on Sunday after¬ 
noon; and she further imparted the confidential 
information that Mr. Jones, who kept the large 
livery stable, had a wonderful pair of black 
horses that she had always wanted to drive 
with—especially when harnessed to the fine bas¬ 
ket phaeton. By the payment of one pound on 
account the aforesaid horses were reserved for 
the following Sunday afternoon at three o’clock. 

As Mary usually had on hand a string of four 
or five first-class beaux, and twice that number 
in the field, obviously it behooved her to be dis¬ 
creet. In sweet confidence, at an opportune 


114 


MY DITTY BAG 


time, Mary would tell all of her admirers how 
careful she must be, and how her engagement 
must be regarded as strictly confidential. 
Caesar’s wife could never have made a louder 
roar about her reputation than Mary did. While 
she was always so sorry that she could not talk 
more to her friend, yet she must avoid attract¬ 
ing attention or she might lose her position, and 
admiring swains were warned not to loiter too 
long over the attractive bar. 

At two-thirty Sunday afternoon the host of 
the driving party would receive by messenger a 
sweet little note saying, with due regret, that 
unfortunately her mother was sick, and his ex¬ 
pected guest was awfully sorry but could not go 
to drive that afternoon. 

Registering disgust and disappointment, Jack 
proceeded to the livery stable to countermand 
his order. The black horses were harnessed, 
and ready for action. Jonesy swore that his 
chance to let the horses for Sunday afternoon 
was gone, and he had lost five pounds by Jack’s 
cancellation, as he was offered that sum for 
the horses until eight o’clock that night. After 
considerable chaffering Jack usually compro¬ 
mised by paying two or three pounds, and he 


THE GIRLS AND THE SAILORS 115 

would return on board ship a sadder but not 
a wiser man. 

Well-informed Aucklanders state that these 
black horses were engaged by Mary’s swains at 
various hours every Sunday afternoon, but 
Mary was never known to go driving except on 
Sunday evening, when a handsome young 
rancher from the Bay of Islands took charge of 
her and the black horse team, which the grate¬ 
ful Jones furnished without charge, and split 
the afternoon’s receipts fifty-fifty with the 
canny Scotch lassie. 

Mary not only had a good practical knowl¬ 
edge of the psychology of sailors, but she was a 
complete encyclopedia of maritime reports at 
Auckland. She knew the exact date of depar¬ 
ture of all the vessels in the harbor, and she 
became tearful and melancholy to any of her 
admirers who were to sail the following day. 
The farther they were to sail the sweeter and 
more affectionate Mary was. Obviously a poor 
lonely mate bound for Liverpool was entitled to 
more consideration than an engineer bound for 
Sydney, who was likely to return in a few weeks. 

It was currently reported, and I think slander¬ 
ously, that Mary was engaged seven times each 


116 


MY DITTY BAG 


week, but it was more creditable that she was 
given this number of gifts each week by the 
wicked sailors who “had a wife in every port.” 

Another little tableau was staged exclusively 
for clipper captains and such other gentry as 
seemed unusually flush. Mary was discovered 
weeping profusely. “What is the trouble?” 
Sob, sob, sob. Ultimately she controlled her¬ 
self enough to grievously ejaculate between 
sobs, “I lost my brooch.” After suitable sooth¬ 
ing the following “facts” were elicited. The 
brooch was a wonderful gold malachite com¬ 
bination—it cost her twelve pound ten, and rep¬ 
resented the savings of several years. No, it 
could not be replaced. Jenkins, the jeweler, had 
only two like it, and she was sure that the sec¬ 
ond one had been sold. More consolation was 
administered, and later in the day Mary was 
surprised and delighted to find that the second 
brooch had not been sold, but the captain had 
bought it and wanted Mary to accept this as a 
memento of his undying affection. The manner 
in which Mary simulated gratitude, reluctance 
and appreciation would do credit to a modern 
actress, but finally she did take the brooch, 
which was not again displayed in Jenkins’ win- 


THE GIRLS AND THE SAILORS 117 

day until after the clipper had sailed for home. 
The commissions on the sale of the malachite 
brooch made a nice little nest egg for Mary 
when she afterwards married her rancher. 

Years after sailing from Auckland, if one 
skipper, meeting another in Callao or Calcutta, 
inquired, “Did you buy Mary a brooch?” it was 
a ten to one bet that the second skipper would 
blush through many coats of tan, and growl out 
a very indistinct and profane reply, not always 
responsive to the question. 

The first mate of a barque that I was second 
mate on was a fine-looking German from 
Bremen, who, like many sailors, was very senti¬ 
mental. He had three photographs of his wife 
hanging in different parts of his room. She was 
a pretty, modest, demure-looking woman, some¬ 
what like one of Stephens’ creations. Many a 
night on a long passage to Hongkong did I have 
to listen to tales of the goodness, virtues and 
beauty of Mrs. Mate. I never got much satis¬ 
faction from hearing a man describe the excel¬ 
lent and alluring qualities of his wife. It is 
admittedly much worse, however, when one has 
to listen to a wife describing the virtues of her 
husband who is several thousand miles away. 


118 


MY DITTY BAG 


A few years ago, on an extended cruise, I sat 
alongside a charming lady on the deck, who I 
honestly think was homesick for her good hus¬ 
band at home. She was not tongue-tied, and 
in the course of a few weeks I knew that her 
mate was the acme of generosity; he had never 
spoken a cross word to her; he never drank 
liquor himself but always wanted to keep a few 
bottles of beer in the ice-box for wicked visitors; 
he believed in wearing woolen underclothing, 
and on cold mornings always drew the bath for 
his charming wife. I might keep on with a 
much longer description, but it was this kind of 
stuff that I had to listen to from the mate who 
admired his wife, left alone back in Liverpool. 

One night in Hongkong the mate of an Ameri¬ 
can ship lying near us came on board for sup¬ 
per, and when he was shown into our mate’s 
room after the meal, notwithstanding he was a 
rather morose, taciturn down-east Yankee, he 
indicated a great deal of interest in the photo¬ 
graphs hanging around the bunk. Thereupon he 
was duly informed that they were of the mate’s 
wife, and her biography was briefly recited, the 
lonely husband emphasizing the fact that he had 
not seen his darling wife for nearly two years. 


THE GIRLS AND THE SAILORS 119 

A night or two afterwards we paid a return 
visit to the American ship, and in the Yankee 
mate’s room was a picture similar to the one 
that our mate had. In response to a rather 
indignant inquiry the Yankee mate “allowed” 
the lady was his wife, and exhibited a few loving 
letters to confirm his statement. The Bremen 
gentleman said that he had sent thirty pounds 
home to “his” as soon as he arrived in Hong¬ 
kong. The Yankee said, “So did I.” Then he 
said, “Let’s go on shore.” Two days afterwards 
the mates returned to their respective vessels, 
aided by the very efficient police department of 
Hongkong. They had had a genuinely hilari¬ 
ous celebration, broken off all entangling alli¬ 
ances, and did not make any further remittances 
to Liverpool. 

I could relate many similar incidents, but I 
wish simply to suggest that sailors as a class 
treated their wives and sweethearts a little bet¬ 
ter than any other class of men did. 

American shipowners rather encouraged their 
captains to take their wives with them, their 
theory being that a captain would look out for 
the ship much better in port if he was accom¬ 
panied by his wife. It was very seldom that 


120 


MY DITTY BAG 


English captains were permitted to take their 
wives, the English point of view being that a 
captain would be down below enjoying his wife’s 
company rather than driving the ship from the 
deck. 

The American clippers had most excellent 
accommodations, very few modern steamers hav¬ 
ing finer woodwork and better decorations in 
their cabins than these old American ships had. 
There was usually an organ in the after cabin, 
and some vessels even had room for a piano. 
The captain’s wife was able to keep a good col¬ 
lection of plants in the skylight, and on for¬ 
eign voyages quite an assortment of birds was 
collected. 

The first bathroom that I ever saw was on a 
vessel built in 1868, and a few years later, when 
we put a bathroom in our house, the fact was 
noticed in the city paper as a news item. 

The staterooms were comfortable, large 
enough for an upright desk and a couch, and 
there was usually considerable richly orna¬ 
mented gilt work over the wooden panels and 
pillars in the cabins. The wives of most cap¬ 
tains readily became good sailors, were happy 
and comfortable, and had an opportunity of 


THE GIRLS AND THE SAILORS 121 

seeing the world, which privilege was not as ac¬ 
cessible to their sisters at home as it is fifty 
years later. 

It was a Scotch skipper who observed to his 
friend, when he was negotiating for employ¬ 
ment, “I dinna’ care, mon, about the wages— 
it’s the wee small pickin’s that I’m after.” 

One of these Scotch skippers had for a passen¬ 
ger a noted artist, who made the voyage of sev¬ 
eral months from Liverpool to Melbourne. The 
stateroom doors in the cabin were finished in 
ivory and gilt. Perhaps the artist did not have 
any canvas, but he did have plenty of time. 
Anyway, he decorated the door panels in a 
highly artistic manner, so that when the skip¬ 
per went around to Sydney he was able to sell 
the doors for several hundred pounds. He re¬ 
placed them with as good doors as were origin¬ 
ally in the cabin, the incidental revenue being 
regarded as one of the proper perquisites of the 
commanding officer. 



XIII 


Shipwreck 


E VERY sailor of any social standing has 
been shipwrecked. The following is 
taken verbatim from a journal I kept in 
1876, and which was published by the New - 
buryport Herald, January 7, 1888: 

“It is so long since I have had any wish or 
opportunity to journalize that it seems odd to 
resume. I see in my last entry I was bewailing 
the lack of variety and excitement on shipboard, 
but during the past few days I have had all the 
excitement (of the kind), that I wish for in the 
course of my natural existence. Events have 
transpired in this brief interval of time that will 
122 






SHIPWRECK 


123 


be indelibly impressed on my memory. I have 
never been exposed to exceptional danger be¬ 
fore. Therefore what to me may seem quite 
an adventure to others may appear a trifling 
affair, but I hope never to be placed in the same 
circumstances again. 

“Last Thursday evening we had a fine fair 
wind, and our hearts beat high with fond hopes 
and anticipations of a speedy arrival in port. 
Just at sunset we sighted Lawn and Kekik 
Islands, and a few hours later Pisang, just as we 
expected, and we felt quite confident that upon 
arising next morning we should be at the en¬ 
trance of Dampier Straits. But ‘Man proposes 
and God disposes,’ and we had a very forcible 
illustration of this old adage in this case. 

“I retired early, and about one o’clock a.m. 
I was awakened by hearing the captain, in sten¬ 
torian tones, cry out, ‘Hard-a-port,’ ‘Call all 
hands,’ ‘Brace round the yards.’ I knew at once 
that something out of the usual course of events 
had taken place, and hastily rushed on deck. I 
could see on the port side some small breakers, 
and in a few minutes I felt her strike—once, 
twice, thrice, in quick succession. I never before 
realized the feeling one has when he is on board 


124 


MY DITTY BAG 


a ship that strikes on a rock or shoal at dead of 
night, and indeed it is a feeling that one can 
understand only by experience. To be sur¬ 
rounded by breakers, the ship striking heavily 
every moment on a desert and unknown coast, 
and every wave threatening to carry away 
the masts or dash the vessel to pieces, is nothing 
if not disconcerting. By means of bracing the 
yards in every direction we got the vessel to 
forge ahead and clear, a short distance. For the 
moment we had a slight hope of being all right, 
but it was quickly dissipated, for we began strik¬ 
ing harder than before on a second reef, and it 
afterwards transpired that we were encircled by 
a complete labyrinth of reefs in every direction, 
none of which are down on the chart. Mr. Kim¬ 
ball was with me on the quarter deck when 
she struck, and we both hastened forward to 
be of whatever assistance we could in working 
the ship. 

“Mr. Scott was sounding all around the vessel 
with the hand lead, and every minute or two 
would cry out, ‘By the mark three/ ‘Quarter 
less three/ ‘Two and a half/ etc., etc.—three 
fathoms being the extreme depth. 

“Once again everything possible was done in 


SHIPWRECK 


125 


an effort to liberate us from our perilous posi¬ 
tion, but all to no purpose. The officers and 
crew worked splendidly, and everything was 
done decently and in order. The sails were 
furled. Jim was relieved from the wheel in 
order to assist about the work, and I had the 
privilege of steering what we then thought was 
the last trick at the wheel of our gallant bark. 
While the men were furling the sails the vessel 
kept striking so hard that the masts shook like 
reeds, whereupon the men became too frightened 
to stay aloft and descended. But on the order 
being given they quickly recommenced their 
perilous task. And now all we could do was to 
wait anxiously for daybreak. On account of 
the men having worked so hard and being physi¬ 
cally exhausted, they were all offered a glass of 
grog; to my great surprise only three accepted 
it. Most of the others had been hard drinkers, 
but had signed the pledge in New York during 
the temperance movement, and seemed deter¬ 
mined to keep their resolution. 

“We still continued to thump very hard, and 
it was deemed advisable to have the boats 
cleared away, ready for an emergency. For 
some time after we struck we were too busy to 


126 


MY DITTY BAG 


make any preparations for leaving the ship. 
Confused thoughts of Robinson Crusoe and 
other sea stories hurried across my mind, and 
as soon as an opportunity offered I went below 
and got my overcoat and jacket ready to put 
on, and loading my pockets with everything that 
might come in handy in case of shipwreck, viz.: 
a revolver, fish hooks, twine, all the mate’s lunch 
(gingersnaps, salt beef and biscuits), can of sar¬ 
dines, Testament, pictures of all my friends, box 
of cartridges, can of condensed coffee, etc., etc. 
Everything was crammed in pell mell, and a 
pretty mess of my pockets it made. 

“As time advanced it became evident that the 
tide was rising and the ship would certainly hold 
together for some hours to come. The wind, 
too, had all died away. So we were told to make 
a small bundle of our most valuable and neces¬ 
sary articles, and to be ready to embark at short 
notice. Then the cabin presented a scene of 
indescribable confusion. Our trunks were hud¬ 
dled together in the middle of the floor, and we 
were all engaged in packing. Among other dan¬ 
gers we dreaded an attack from savages, most 
probably cannibals, and the command was to 
open a case of rifles and revolvers and load 


SHIPWRECK 


127 


them. For the time we had quite an arsenal 
in the Captain’s room, and we all armed in a 
most formidable and warlike manner. 

“By this time it was light enough to distin¬ 
guish that we were on a very shallow, rocky 
shoal, about four miles distant from a very 
pretty little group of green islands of all shapes 
and sizes. We were nearly on the southern 
extremity of the reef, and could see bottom very 
plainly. At daybreak Mr. Janvrin took the 
small boat and went out to sound all around the 
ship for some distance, finding at last a channel 
into deep enough water to float her, which was 
the first thing to be done. The kedge anchor 
was put out astern and a hawser was fastened 
to the capstan, and for some hours all hands 
worked hard, but without accomplishing much. 

“It became evident that in order to get her 
off we must lighten the cargo anyway, and then 
there was no surety that it would have the de¬ 
sired effect. But the order was given, and in a 
short time the hatches were off and huge cases 
of tobacco, cases of steel saws and scales, barrels 
of pitch, and everything belonging to the ship 
not necessary to the working of her, were indis¬ 
criminately consigned to 'Davy Jones’ Locker.’ 


128 


MY DITTY BAG 


In a few hours thousands of dollars’ worth of 
goods were gone forever, to be sunk or to drift 
ashore on the desert isles. 

“By this time the day was pretty well ad¬ 
vanced and the ship was striking all the time, 
and the captain called the crew aft and made 
a short speech. He said that he expected them 
all to do their duty promptly; the discipline of 
the ship would be fully preserved; that we were 
in a bad scrape, but many a sicker horse than 
we had been cured; that he should do all possible 
on the morrow to get her off, but thought best 
to provide for all possible contingencies. There¬ 
fore we should finish the day by making boat 
sails, etc., filling boat’s water casks and getting 
provisions ready. At night, in order to give the 
mates and men all the rest possible, the night 
was divided into three watches, the captain, Mr. 
Kimball, and myself, each taking three or four 
hours. 

“The vessel kept striking very hard the first 
part of the night, and our feelings were not to be 
envied. As I walked the deck alone in the night 
I could not help wondering if I should ever see 
home and loved ones again, and if so, when? 
I knew well that if a heavy wind came up we 


SHIPWRECK 


129 


should inevitably be dashed to pieces on the 
rocks, and then what? We might take to our 
boats, but there was no civilized country within 
hundreds of miles. 

“Amboyna, about two hundred miles to the 
southward, was the only place mentioned on the 
chart, and no one on board knew anything about 
it. Perchance it was only a small trading port, 
two or three vessels calling there in a year, and 
a two hundred miles in an open boat is not an 
alluring prospect by any means. Our rudder 
was nearly disabled, being raised up six or eight 
inches and out of the gudgeons; vessel leaking 
badly and quite likely a hole in her bottom. 

“The men all felt quite blue, but every one 
on board worked to the extent of his ability, and 
when night came was utterly exhausted. Satur¬ 
day all hands Turned to’ at daylight, and one 
of the anchors, with chains and hauling lines 
attached, was got out and fastened to the after 
capstan. Before breakfast (10 a.m.) and after 
breakfast an attempt to force her off by these 
means had partially succeeded, when the strain 
was so severe on the after capstan as to break 
it. Several pieces flew off, but fortunately no 
one was injured. This was a severe loss, as we 


130 


MY DITTY BAG 


had to resort to the windlass, which was not half 
so convenient; but by dint of much hard labor 
we at last succeeded in getting her afloat. How 
we worked! But the result fully repaid. 

“Sunday dawned bright and clear (indeed we 
were greatly favored with good weather all the 
time we were on the reef), and operations were 
resumed at daybreak, it clearly being a work of 
dire necessity. All hands were set to work dis¬ 
charging coal. Jim (one of the crew) in his 
early life had been a diver, and for twenty-five 
dollars agreed to go down and report as far 
as possible the condition of the ship. He went 
around the ship as far as possible, and made 
his report: ‘Copper off, rudder badly damaged, 
keel gone, planks stove in/ and other nautical 
phrases that I failed to fully comprehend. Holes 
were bored in the rudder and it was secured as 
well as possible by chains. There were thou¬ 
sands of fish of all kinds and sizes around us 
during our enforced stay on the reef, but they 
would not bite anything. When night came the 
men were so tired it was deemed best to give 
them an opportunity to recruit their energies, 
unless we had a favorable wind for getting off. 
Tuesday buoyed a channel out, and continued 


SHIPWRECK 


131 


discharging coal, all the while hoping for a fair 
wind. 

“Wednesday we had a good wind, and headed 
SSW, and got under way, and at 12 m. Boe 
Islands were fast disappearing from view. 

“Owing to the severe thumping the vessel 
received, the chronometer was out of the way 
some fifteen miles. The charts are very inaccu¬ 
rate, those regions being very little known. We 
proceeded on our voyage with many misgivings. 
We could not tell how much our vessel would 
leak, or how our rudder would work. Any 
moment we might be in extreme danger.” 

I may add that when it is necessary to jetti¬ 
son cargo to make a sacrifice to save the ship, 
the loss occurring comes under the head of gen¬ 
eral average, and a proportionate contribution 
is made on the value of the ship, cargo, and 
freight. This custom dates back to the days 
of the Phoenicians. 

It was necessary for us to throw overboard 
considerable valuable cargo, to get at the heavier 
cargo in the lower hold, and in the square of the 
main hatch, which was first reached, there was a 
large quantity of case tobacco. The captain 
gave strict orders to the chief mate that all the 


132 


MY DITTY BAG 


tobacco must be thrown overboard, to comply 
with the law. The mate repeated the commands 
to the second mate, and the second mate was 
supposed to watch the hatch, but with the natu¬ 
ral sympathy for the sailors who coveted the 
good tobacco, he left his job at times, and not¬ 
withstanding the doubt as to whether the vessel 
would ever get off the reef, the forecastle was 
pretty well filled with tobacco. 

On shipboard the tobacco was usually sold 
from the “Slop Chest,” and the profit was one 
of the privileges accruing to the captain. The 
standard price of plug tobacco was one dollar 
and a half per pound, and when this commodity 
was short I have known tobacco to sell as high 
as ten dollars per pound. 

Two or three days after we lightened the ship 
and got off the reef, we sailed through Dampier 
Straits, and the natives from New Guinea on the 
one side and the Northern Islands on the other 
came on board to trade, bringing monkeys, 
parrots, java sparrows, cocoanuts, shells, and 
other island commodities. The natives thought 
that after trading for many years they knew 
the value of tobacco, and on being offered sev¬ 
eral pounds of tobacco by the sailors for a bunch 


SHIPWRECK 


133 


of bananas, concluded that the only honest 
sailors alive were these on the Agate. Probably 
never before or since have the natives had as 
much tobacco in their possession. 

When we arrived at Shanghai and the vessel 
was put in dry dock, there were several feet of 
planking on each bow that were chafed by the 
coral, so that there was only about one-half inch 
of solid plank left in several places. 


XIV 

Personalities or Personal Recollections 

FTER the Civil War the 
boys of that period re¬ 
garded “guerilla” and “go¬ 
rilla” as nearly synony¬ 
mous. They knew that 
these monsters were alike 
to be dreaded as brutal and 
cruel, and Morgan, Mosby, 
Cantrell, and other famous 
chieftains were pictured as the James boys were 
in a later generation. Our good old dime novels 
featured frequently the villainies and cruelties 
of the rebel guerillas, whom brave Union officers 
shot down in flocks. 

President Hayes, on the recommendation of 
General Grant, appointed Col. John S. Mosby 
as Consul General at Hongkong, and when I 
went on shore with our captain, to sign the 
usual protest after a ship has experienced heavy 
weather, I was much interested to know that I 
was going to meet a real guerilla. As I was 
134 



PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 135 

young enough to have a vague apprehension 
that I might be butchered in cold blood if I did 
anything to offend the former chief, I was quite 
surprised on meeting a handsome, distinguished- 
looking man, with most courtly manners. His 
quick, decided expressions indicated his force 
and ability. 

Colonel Mosby was the first well-known 
Southerner to realize that, the war being over, it 
was essential to the future development of our 
Nation that the North and South should be rec¬ 
onciled. His broad and liberal views were bit¬ 
terly assailed by the narrow partisans, and he 
was very unpopular in the South, but in later 
years his courage and wisdom were at least 
partly recognized by thinking people. 

In 1882, when I carried Chinese passengers 
from Hongkong to Victoria, I became quite well 
acquainted with Colonel Mosby, and greatly en¬ 
joyed his reminiscences. I learned to have great 
respect for his ability, and to admire his wide 
fund of general information. I think Mosby 
was often lonely, and he would frequently have 
breakfast with me on shipboard on Sunday 
morning, when we had the standard New Eng¬ 
land breakfast, Mosby saying, “The only good 


136 


MY DITTY BAG 


thing the damned Yankees ever did was when 
they invented baked beans.” 

Forty years ago our consular service was 
not creditable, nor competent. Appointments 
were made almost entirely for political reasons. 
Most consuls were notoriously unfit for their 
positions. Many were dishonest, and many 
more were a disgrace to their country. Mosby 
was one of our first capable, efficient, honest 
consuls. He was a good lawyer, and took a real 
pride in the service. No fees were ever taken 
by him to which the government had the slight¬ 
est claim; invoices were scrutinized as never be¬ 
fore; malpractices were abolished, and the 
Hongkong Consulate was reformed to such an 
extent that Mosby was maligned and abused by 
several of our political consuls in the Far East. 
He upheld the dignity of the United States on 
all occasions. Once to such an extent that the 
Governor, Pope Hennessey, threatened to put 
him in jail. Mosby, who was witty and sarcas¬ 
tic, wrote the Governor such a caustic and clever 
letter, which the newspapers published, that 
Hennessey was made to appear ridiculous. 

At times Mosby suffered severely from some 
old wounds. Then he was irritable, and dis- 


PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 


137 


played a very bad temper. When he was mad 
he had the hardest, ugliest, coldest eye that I 
have ever seen. A fellow shipmate told me this 
anecdote: 

He was in the Consul’s office one noon when 
most of the clerks were out for their luncheon, 
and only a few Chinese employees remained in 
the room with the Consul, who happened to be 
having a bad day. On a table near the desk was 
a fine collection of weapons, spears, crisses, bows 
and arrows, etc., that some one brought to 
Mosby from the Caroline Islands. He was dis¬ 
playing these with pride and interest when three 
sailors forced themselves into the private office, 
carrying a heavy load, and led by what seamen 
called a big “muck-mouthed” Irishman. They 
were ordered out, but instead of obeying began 
a loud harangue about the injustice of sending 
them to jail, from which it appeared they had 
recently been released. A second time they 
were ordered out, but to no avail. The in¬ 
truders began to abuse our government, and all 
connected therewith, calling the Consul himself 
a “damned old rebel.” Mosby grabbed a heavy 
spear and threw it with full force within a foot 
of the orator’s head. He reached for a second 


138 


MY DITTY BAG 


spear, but the sailors put for the door with all 
speed. If the spear had struck fairly there 
would have been a dead man. 

The advantages taken of their positions by 
most of the prominent consuls who returned 
from the Orient comparatively rich men might 
have been considered semi-legitimate, but 
Mosby’s integrity was above reproach, and he 
came back to the United States as poor a man 
as he went. 

After all the years that have passed I like to 
pay my modest tribute to this most able, honor¬ 
able, and efficient public servant. 

More than thirty years ago the Skylight Club 
of Minneapolis assembled in Harwood’s studio, 
around a large, cheerful wood fire, and over the 
pipes and ale (four per cent) in pleasant com¬ 
panionship, discussed national and interna¬ 
tional affairs with the confidence and freedom 
of youth. 

Later the meetings were held in the elegant 
quarters of the “North Western Miller,” Wil¬ 
liam C. Edgar being one of the founders and 
prominent members of the organization. 

One of the frequent functions of the Club in 
the winter season was entertaining distinguished 


PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 


139 


visitors from the East after lectures and enter¬ 
tainments, as Minneapolis in those days was 
considered in the extreme west. It was on an 
occasion of this kind that I first met Frank Hop- 
kinson Smith, the highest type of a real Ameri¬ 
can gentleman. He was handsome, attractive, 
frank, sincere, and had most charming manners. 
This was about the time of the Armenian mas¬ 
sacres, when Gladstone was sympathetic, and 
the “unspeakable Turk” was being abused by 
indignant Club members. Mr. Smith, who was 
well acquainted with the Near East, was the 
first man I ever heard defend the Turks and 
consider fairly their grievances and provoca¬ 
tions. For an hour he entertained us with inter¬ 
esting character sketches and fascinating 
accounts of the Turks and their neighbors, con¬ 
cerning whom he possessed a rare fund of 
knowledge. 

I have often thought that I would sooner 
have been Hopkinson Smith than any man 
I have ever known, a prominent and successful 
engineer; an artist of recognized merit; one of 
the best and most popular of American authors, 
and an excellent reader, who never failed to dis¬ 
play marked dramatic ability. I am sure that 


140 


MY DITTY BAG 


he would have made a great actor. He had a 
distinguished personality and a most attractive 
smile, and his whole being in social intercourse 
unmistakably marked the born gentleman. 

One evening about six o’clock I called for 
him at the Duquesne Club in Pittsburgh to take 
him to the train for Sewickley, where he was to 
dine with me before his lecture. The night was 
dirty, slushy and snowy. As usual, Mr. Smith 
was dressed perfectly—tall hat, white vest, ele¬ 
gant seal-lined overcoat, and fresh gloves. 
There were not many people at the station, and 
as we were walking down the platform Mr. 
Smith saw a stout, poorly dressed Slavish wom¬ 
an carrying two large baskets. Raising his 
hat, as though addressing a duchess, and tak¬ 
ing one of her baskets, he assisted her up the 
steps, opened the door, and ushered her into 
the car before the astonished woman could real¬ 
ize what had happened. Presumably she had 
never before in all her life had any such atten¬ 
tion. The whole thing on his part was so simple, 
natural, and sincere that it was impressed upon 
my memory indelibly. 

On another visit to Pittsburgh Mr. Smith had 
breakfast with me, and later we were sitting on 


PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 141 

the club sofa together smoking—his cigars, by 
the way, as he usually had his own brand of 
special Havanas, which were excellent. He did 
not seem inclined to take chances on smoking 
strong ones. In the course of our conversation 
he asked me, “What is your college, Captain?” 
I replied promptly that “I never had the advan¬ 
tage of a college education.” Immediately he 
put his arm around my shoulder, and said, 
“Neither had I.” He thought that I might be 
sensitive, and his impulsive, considerate response 
was characteristic, and indicative of his broad 
sympathy. 

A year later he wrote me a cordial note from 
Youngstown, where he was lecturing, and asked 
me to lunch with him next day in Pittsburgh at 
the Schenley Hotel. I waited for him a few 
minutes, and, notwithstanding his seventy years, 
when he crossed the lobby his step was alert and 
vigorous. He looked as fresh and distinguished 
as a prince, with his braid-bound cutaway, car¬ 
nation in buttonhole, fancy vest, exclusive neck¬ 
tie, carefully creased trousers, perfect shoes— 
the well groomed and up-to-date cosmopolitan. 
As soon as we entered the dining room it was 
evident that the head waiter had been inter- 


142 


MY DITTY BAG 


viewed. We had a choice table, and the freshly 
opened oysters came on without any delay. 
Following a clear soup the aforesaid waiter, 
with great pride, brought for my host's inspec¬ 
tion a bottle of fine old Burgundy—dirty and 
cobwebbed, and from the French conversation 
that followed I inferred that the wine had a 
proper pedigree. Then followed a thick, fine beef¬ 
steak, with a special sauce, potatoes and other 
vegetables. After the keen edge of our appetite 
had been somewhat dulled, he leisurely and skill¬ 
fully prepared a delightful compound of roque- 
fort, butter and Worcester sauce, after which 
he took some chilled sliced oranges, powdered 
them with sugar, and carefully poured Kirsch 
liqueur over the dainty dish. During the lunch¬ 
eon the head waiter, apparently realizing that 
he was serving an appreciative guest, appeared 
frequently and received commendations or 
friendly suggestions. After this all we had was 
small coffee, cigars, and a little old Cognac, and 
I am sure we felt happy and satisfied. 

One reason why I remember this luncheon so 
well is that at that particular time, as is com¬ 
mon to gentlemen advancing in years, I showed 
a tendency to put on some additional weight. 


PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 143 

It was during what I might call the “diet craze,” 
and I had been reducing my rations to comply 
with the style of the times. But after I talked 
to and dined with my esteemed host, and ad¬ 
mired his mental and physical condition equaled 
by so few men of his age, I made up my mind 
that there was a great deal of humbug in dieting, 
and that for the few remaining years of my life 
I would eat and drink what I wanted. This 
course of procedure has had satisfactory results 
up to date. 

After luncheon we went over to an exhibit of 
paintings that was being held at Carnegie In¬ 
stitute, where I greatly enjoyed listening for 
nearly two hours to Mr. Smith’s remarks and 
criticisms on the paintings, interspersed with 
anecdotes of the artists, with many of whom he 
was personally acquainted. 

Mr. Smith said when he was painting that he 
liked to get up very early in the morning and 
work as long as the light lasted, but if he did 
not finish his water color in a day that it was 
very hard for him to resume work later on the 
same picture. 

On one occasion Mr. Smith told me that he 
was greatly troubled because he had accepted 


144 


MY DITTY BAG 


a check for one thousand dollars for a magazine 
article several months before, and had not yet 
written the article. I inferred that the editor 
counted on assuring the article beyond doubt 
by sending the check in advance. As we were 
sitting smoking he told me about a book he con¬ 
templated writing, and afterwards, in an auto¬ 
graphed copy of “The Arm Chair at the Inn 
which he gave me, he referred to our conver¬ 
sation as follows: * 

“For my dear friend, Captain Brown, into 
whose patient ear I poured the unwritten details 
of this book many months before they were put 
into type.” 


XV 

Recollections Continued 



RS. MARY ROBERTS RINE¬ 
HART was for several years 
a fellow citizen of mine in 
Sewickley. Sewickley is a 
beautiful and prominent sub¬ 
urb of Pittsburgh. She was 
attractive, modest, talented, 
and always friendly and so¬ 
cial. When she wrote “The 
After House” she asked me to look over her 
manuscript, to correct any grave nautical errors. 
While, so far as I know, she had little experience 
or knowledge of the sea, I found only two or 
three technical mistakes, and these would not 
have been noticed by an ordinary reader. With 
the exception of Kipling and Conrad I do not 
know of any author whose sea stories are as free 
from glaring errors as hers. I have an auto¬ 
graphed collection of books written by authors 
with whom I have been acquainted, and Mrs. 

145 




146 


MY DITTY BAG 


Rinehart was kind enough to write on the front 
leaf in a copy of “The After House,” which she 
gave me, as follows: 

“To Captain Brown, whose nautical skill and 
kindly assistance enable The Ella to steer a 
safe, if not uneventful, voyage, this little book 
is sent, with the thanks and appreciation of its 
author.” 

Mrs. Rinehart is a remarkable woman, hav¬ 
ing unusual characteristics, which for want of a 
better name I term “savez.” By “savez” I 
mean a combination of tact, common sense, 
quick perception, knowledge, and broad sym¬ 
pathy. She is a hard worker, and has earned 
her success by her ability, keen observation, and 
industry. 

My reference to Kipling reminds me of his 
remarkable accuracy in all nautical details, even 
when his references are quite technical. In his 
poem, “The Mary Gloster,” he correctly locates 
“Little Paternoster Shoals” in Macassar Straits. 
Few readers would care if he had written Car- 
imata or Dampier Straits, but I nearly ran 
ashore on these Shoals once, so I know the dif¬ 
ference. I have read with great appreciation 
all of Kipling’s books, and I never noted a nau- 


RECOLLECTIONS CONTINUED 


147 


tical error. Conrad, on the other hand, rarely 
goes into details. 

A few months before we declared war with 
Germany I was lunching with Senator McKin¬ 
ley, at the Metropolitan Club, Washington, and, 
as we were approaching the elevator to go down, 
the Senator said, “Would you like to meet 
Bernstorff?” Almost before I could signify my 
pleasure at doing so he introduced me to the 
German Ambassador, who was coming to the 
elevator from another direction. This was at 
a time when our indignation against Germany 
and the Germans was very tense, and few men 
in the world were carrying a heavier load of 
responsibility and trouble than the Count was. 
He was a fine-looking man, with a modified mili¬ 
tary carriage, elegantly dressed in a dark gray 
cutaway suit, carnation in buttonhole, a gentle¬ 
man, and a polished man of the world. He was 
most gracious. I could fairly assume that his 
chief aim for the moment was to be cordial and 
friendly. He asked the Senator some questions 
about his home town, Champlain, Ill., where he 
had delivered an address at the University the 
year before. He manifested his interest in, and 
knowledge of, Pittsburgh, was suave, almost 


148 


MY DITTY BAG 


deferential, deliberately appealing to a man’s 
vanity. I bade him good-by, and felt that I had 
enjoyed an interview with a very remarkable 
man, possessed of great latent power and ability. 

I spent a very pleasant forenoon in the early 
summer one year in President Taft’s office, lis¬ 
tening to eloquent and learned arguments as to 
what whiskey was, legally. The consideration 
of this question was brought about under Doc¬ 
tor Wiley’s administration of the Pure Food 
Laws. 

John G. Carlisle, formerly Secretary of the 
Treasury under Cleveland, appeared for the 
Louisville distillers, who contended that the 
name a whiskey” could only be applied to grain 
distillates. Lawrence Maxwell, of Cincinnati, 
upheld the rights of the distillers who blended. 
Joseph Choate, of New York, eloquently argued 
for the rights of “Duffy’s Pure Malt Whiskey.” 
Mr. Bullitt, of Louisville, afterwards Solicitor 
General of the United States, represented the 
molasses interests. The Attorney General, sev¬ 
eral Cabinet Ministers, and other noted law¬ 
yers who were present, made the assemblage a 
rather remarkable one. 

I was impressed greatly with the quick legal 


RECOLLECTIONS CONTINUED 


149 


perceptions of President Taft. Nobody could 
fail to be struck by his fine, fair, judicial mind, 
which enabled him to quickly brush aside argu¬ 
mentative humbug, and with remarkable clarity 
of thought and expression his decisions or opin¬ 
ions were prompt and sagacious. 

A year or two later I attended a banquet 
given to President Taft in Minneapolis, which 
was an unusually enjoyable occasion. The 
menu consisted chiefly of the products of Min¬ 
nesota—white fish from Lake Superior, prairie 
chickens, wild rice, etc. The Chairman of the 
Committee had samples of the different dishes 
that were to be served cooked on three separate 
occasions, and subjected to the criticism of con¬ 
noisseurs. The waiters were drilled in advance, 
and wore distinctive uniforms, original and 
suitable. The wine list was not large, but the 
wines were of an excellent and unusually good 
character. I recollect this occasion as one of the 
pleasantest large dinners that I ever attended. 

The day following the President was given a 
small luncheon at the Lafayette Club, Lake 
Minnetonka, where he was to meet a party of 
more than forty distinguished Japanese, who 
were on their way East. I was within twelve 


150 


MY DITTY BAG 


feet of the President as the visitors passed down 
the line between us, and could hear distinctly 
every word that he spoke. Now ordinarily when 
I attend a function of this character the receiv¬ 
ing statesman smiles, offers a few cheap plati¬ 
tudes, and sometimes pretends to know me, al¬ 
though not having the slightest idea of my 
identity. 

It is difficult to remember and correctly place 
Orientals, but President Taft gave what seemed 
to me to be a very unusual exhibition of a fine 
memory. Indeed I may say his quick recog¬ 
nition and prompt and correct placing of his 
visitors was the most remarkable I ever wit¬ 
nessed. He called many of the Japanese by 
their names, or recognized who they were, and 
would occasionally refer to “your distinguished 
father, the Baron.” Pointing out of the open 
window looking toward the Lake he would ask, 
“Does not this remind you of that place near 
Tokio?” He spoke to me of the gentleman who 
was on a committee that had presented the 
President with a tea service when he was in 
Japan, and he said that Mrs. Taft used this 
set frequently. Calling to Pudge Heffelfinger, 
who was near a window, he said, “Pudge, here 


RECOLLECTIONS CONTINUED 151 

is one of your Yale men.” The President’s re¬ 
marks were ready, graceful and natural; and 
must have delighted those to whom he spoke. 

So far as I know, President Taft’s unusual 
recollection of people has not been featured in 
the newspapers. I met Mr. Henry W. Taft at 
a wedding, and asked him if the family had 
recognized this attribute of his brother’s. He 
said that they had, and related an illustrative 
story. At the Grand Opera in New York a lady 
greeted his brother and said, “I presume that 
you do not remember me, Mr. Taft?” The 
prompt reply came, “Why certainly I do, Mrs. 

-,” calling the lady by name. Mr. Taft 

said he did not think that the President had 
met or heard of the lady for twenty years. 
Apropos of memories, Mr. Taft told me an anec¬ 
dote of Disraeli, who was so frequently em¬ 
barrassed while at the height of his political 
career by his inability to recall names or faces 
that it became quite a custom of his, when he 
was introduced to some prominent man, whom 
he knew he ought to recognize, to grasp his 
hand, look at him with his impressive and dra¬ 
matic manner, and with deep solicitude exclaim, 
“How is your old complaint?” and the gentle- 



152 


MY DITTY BAG 


man greeted was likely to go off in a canter 
about his ailments. I have tried this experiment 
myself, and it usually works well, if it is cleverly 
enough feigned. 


XVI 


President McKinley, Secretaries Mellon 
and Hitchcock, Jim Hill, Melville Stone, 
Tom Lowry 



N October, 1899, when the 
First Minnesota Regiment 
returned from the Philip¬ 
pines, President McKinley 
and five members of his Cab¬ 
inet visited Minneapolis to 
meet the returned soldiers. 


The reception committee 
which was to greet the Presi¬ 


dential party met the train at Red Wing. I was 
invited to accompany the committee, and was 
given the opportunity for an hour or two to 
meet and observe some of the great men of the 
country. 

It was evident that Mrs. McKinley was even 
more of an invalid than the newspapers had in¬ 
dicated, and she certainly was a very exacting 
invalid, apparently in a very nervous condition. 
President McKinley was one of the most patient 


153 






154 


MY DITTY BAG 


and attentive husbands I have ever known of. 
He was frequently called to Mrs. McKinley’s 
compartment, and she interrupted his conversa¬ 
tion several times, but she seemed to be always 
the first object of the President’s solicitude. 

I had not seen the President since the Na¬ 
tional Convention of 1892, when, during one of 
the sessions, with great energy and sincerity, 
he eloquently declined to be a Presidential can¬ 
didate, as he considered himself fairly pledged 
to support Mr. Harrison. During the interven¬ 
ing period it seemed to me that the President 
had aged and grown more serious, but his kindly, 
courteous manner was the same. 

Professor McElroy, who wrote a biography of 
Grover Cleveland, quotes the latter’s opinion 
of McKinley, after he had a long talk with him, 
as follows: 

“He is an honest, sincere, and serious man, 
who will have the best interests of the people 
at heart.” 

I think that a man having the tact, experi¬ 
ence, and cooperative quality that McKinley 
had is likely to be under-rated, but I believe 
that he often serves his country better than a 
more strenuous leader, or a visionary idealist, 


CELEBRITIES 


155 


and in the period of rehabilitation beginning 
in 1896 he was a conciliator and a conservative, 
when the nation needed rest and a decrease in 
political antagonisms. 

After the Minneapolis celebration, which in¬ 
cluded a rather long prayer and the usual ad¬ 
dresses, the Presidential party and some of the 
friends of Thomas Lowry were invited to lunch 
at Mr. Lowry’s residence. I sat near Secretary 
Wilson, of Iowa, who, when some one com¬ 
mented on the length of the prayer, perpetrated 
the pretty witticism that “the distinguished 
Bishop was not praying to the Creator, but to 
the press reporters.” 

It seems fitting to say that Mr. Thomas 
Lowry was one of the most popular and prom¬ 
inent men in the Northwest—able, cordial, ener¬ 
getic; a typical broad-gauged Westerner of the 
best quality. 

It was about ten minutes later than the an¬ 
nounced hour for lunch, and there was an air 
of restiveness and curiosity among the guests. 
Mr. Lowry, who was an excellent story-teller, 
was entertaining the President, who was laugh¬ 
ing heartily, as were some of the other guests, 
when there seemed to be a general silence and a 


156 


MY DITTY BAG 


changed atmosphere, and James J. Hill entered 
the door. He was dressed in a plain business 
suit, and, totally disregarding any formalities, he 
pushed through to the head of the room, cas¬ 
ually saluted his host, and greeted the President. 
Mr. McKinley assumed a serious expression al¬ 
most as soon as he saw Mr. Hill approaching, 
and they engaged in earnest conversation for 
a few minutes before luncheon was announced. 
Mr. Hill was seated on the President’s right. 
He paid little attention to his luncheon, but con¬ 
tinued his talk, as it seemed to me, to the point 
of rudeness. Whether he thought finally that 
he was not giving the President a chance to eat, 
or that he had something of importance to say 
to Secretary Hitchcock on his left, I do not 
know, but he turned and talked earnestly to the 
Secretary, until something came to his mind 
to say to the President. He wasted very little 
time on social amenities, let alone frivolous con¬ 
versation. 

After most of the guests left the table, James 
J. remained seated, and the Secretary of Agri¬ 
culture moved up next to him. There promptly 
ensued another business session, after which an¬ 
other prominent gentleman took the place of 


CELEBRITIES 


157 


Secretary Wilson, and it was evident Mr. Hill 
wanted to see his last caller. One or two more 
followed, and I observed that Mr. Hill kept his 
seat and all visitors came to him. In this as¬ 
semblage of secretaries, senators and prominent 
men Mr. Hill is fixed clearly in my memory as 
the strongest, most forceful, and masterful of 
all those present. His full gray beard, clear, 
piercing eyes, with bushy eyebrows, and leonine 
appearance were revelations of the man—a very 
unusual character, and a great pioneer of the 
Northwest. 

Some years later I was in St. Paul, visiting 
my good friend George Thompson, of the Pio¬ 
neer Press and Despatch, and by his courtesy 
was included among the guests of Mr. Louis 
Hill, who was entertaining the Governors of the 
Northwest, to consider the question of Na¬ 
tional conservation, at that time a foremost con¬ 
cern of the Roosevelt administration. Mr. J. J. 
Hill was to have been one of the speakers, but 
it was reported at the last minute that he was 
unable to be present. However, after lunch had 
been served and several addresses had been 
made, Mr. Hill came into the room, and was 
cordially greeted. Being urged by Governor 


158 


MY DITTY BAG 


Eberhardt to make a few remarks, he spoke 
easily and forcefully for over an hour. He ex¬ 
pressed his views on conservation vigorously 
and intelligently, displaying a firm grasp of the 
practical features of his subject. He was most 
scornful and contemptuous in his references to 
Roosevelt. Later he discoursed on water trans¬ 
portation. He had a wonderful knowledge of 
facts and figures pertaining to transportation, 
and I had never heard any man talk more intelli¬ 
gently and instructively for an hour. James J. 
Hill was one of the great men of his period, 
shrewd, sagacious, far-seeing, and a hard worker. 
He earned his success by his ability, force, and 
industry. 

The Pittsburgh Plate Glass Company is the 
only Corporation in the United States which has 
had the honor of furnishing two Cabinet Offi¬ 
cers during the past twenty years. 

Hon. Ethan Allan Hitchcock, who was associ¬ 
ated with the plate-glass industry for many 
years, after being Ambassador to Russia, was 
appointed Secretary of the Interior by Presi¬ 
dent McKinley. His appointment was renewed 
by President Roosevelt, and he continued in 
office for nine years, an unusually long term. 


CELEBRITIES 


159 


Mr. Hitchcock was a typical high-principled 
business man of the old school, dignified, the 
soul of integrity, and gifted with excellent judg¬ 
ment. For several years he was head of the 
house of Oliphant & Company in China, the 
Oliphant firm being one of the most prominent 
American firms for several years on the China 
Coast, and this at a time when American firms 
were more prominent in the Chinese trade than 
those of any other nation. Mr. Hitchcock was 
not a good politician, but he was a hard-work¬ 
ing, conscientious representative of the Govern¬ 
ment, who fought strenuously against the 
so-called Lumber Ring, and later against the 
efforts of corrupt speculators to rob the Indians 
and the Government in the Southwest. 

Mr. Hitchcock was a reticent and rather aus¬ 
tere man. While in office he was very careful 
and very cautious as to what he said. After 
his resignation he and I were the guests of Mr. 
John Pitcairn for a few days, fishing for tarpon 
at Aransas Pass, and after a successful day's 
fishing, while we were enjoying our after-dinner 
cigar, Mr. Hitchcock related the following anec¬ 
dote, which I think is interesting as showing 
one phase of Roosevelt’s character: 


160 


MY DITTY BAG 


There was a regular hour set in the after¬ 
noon for Cabinet meetings. One day the Presi¬ 
dent came in about a half hour late, bespattered 
with mud, saying that he had had a bully ride, 
and quite enthusiastic in his expressions of his 
enjoyment. A week or two later the same thing 
happened, except that the President was even 
later than before, whereupon Secretary Hay, in 
a very courteous manner, said, “Mr. President, 
do you not think we had better have another 
hour for our Cabinet Meetings, or you had bet¬ 
ter take another hour for your riding?” 

Mr. Hitchcock said that President Roosevelt 
took the implied rebuke with graciousness, and 
that he was very seldom, if ever, late at Cabinet 
Meetings thereafter. 

Hon. Andrew W. Mellon was a director of 
the Pittsburgh Plate Glass Co. for a compara¬ 
tively short time, and so many complimentary 
comments have been made upon Mr. Mellon’s 
sagacious and successful conduct of the Treas¬ 
ury Department that it would be superfluous 
to commend him as he deserves. From my own 
experience I know that he is a man of remark¬ 
able executive ability, equipped with an uncom¬ 
monly retentive memory. After he became a 


CELEBRITIES 


161 


member of our Board of Directors he used to 
inquire occasionally about some matter that had 
been considered by the directors several months 
since, which he had remembered perfectly. Mr. 
Mellon’s advice was always wise; he was able, 
progressive, and liberal in his point of view. He 
is very modest, and evidently scorns the arts of 
oratory and humbuggery, which are closely 
akin, except in the case of the rare natural ora¬ 
tor who has something worth while to say. His 
diffidence prevents him from speaking fre¬ 
quently in public, but he is a charming and 
forceful conversationalist. However, on one oc¬ 
casion I heard him make a most graceful, witty 
and entertaining five-minute address to a small 
company. 

During the twenty-five years that I have lived 
in Pittsburgh I have never heard any unkind 
criticism or mean abuse of Mr. Mellon, or any 
member of the Mellon family. 

I was born in the East, but lived thirteen 
years in Minnesota, and have visited frequently 
most of the important cities of the West. I 
have traveled much in smoking cars, and have 
sold goods in the country districts. I have spent 
some time in many of the small towns in the 


162 


MY DITTY BAG 


Northwest, and I like to think that I understand 
the American people better than a man who 
has not traveled among them and had business 
in the same manner as I had. I am sure that the 
average American means to be fair, and is com¬ 
paratively free from envy. Where a man has 
made a relatively large amount of money in 
many of the Western cities, his fellow-citizens 
are proud of him and appreciate his good for¬ 
tune. Where a man is democratic, works hard, 
has the capacity to conduct large enterprises 
successfully, and makes a very large fortune by 
reason of his energy and marked commercial 
ability, there is little jealousy on the part of the 
average citizen. It is the overnight fortunes 
made in Wall Street, disreputable methods, 
monkey dinners, and society snobbishness that 
arouse animosity. Most Americans are good 
sports, and are quite likely to understand that 
they have only one ticket in the lottery of life. 
If they do not win they are resigned. 

For several years Great Britain and some of 
our older Eastern states have been fortunate in 
having families of ability, wealth and distinc¬ 
tion, who have recognized their obligations to 
their community and to their country, and have 


CELEBRITIES 


163 


served them ably and faithfully. Such a family 
are the Mellons of Pittsburgh. Always builders, 
never wreckers or manipulators; always cour¬ 
teous, liberal, democratic, and having marked 
ability. 

The advice, and usually the assistance, of the 
Mellons is asked for in all important public or 
private developments in Pittsburgh, in assisting 
which they give not only money but their time 
and most able attention. 

One of the most attractive and interesting 
men I have met recently is Melville Stone, Man¬ 
ager for twenty-five years of the Associated 
Press. Mr. Stone is a man of strong personality, 
with very decided likes and dislikes. He has 
a fund of most interesting reminiscences, as is in¬ 
dicated in his autobiography, but what has sur¬ 
prised and pleased me greatly is to find that in 
his declining years Mr. Stone has retained so 
much sentiment and a sympathetic and optimis¬ 
tic outlook upon life. 

During the World War my son, who had re¬ 
cently been promoted to be an ensign in the 
Navy, was dressed in his new uniform and was 
dining with me at the Lotus Club, when I intro¬ 
duced him to Mr. Stone, who was very cordial. 


164 


MY DITTY BAG 


As we arose to go to the elevator the young 
man, quite properly, made way for Mr. Stone 
to precede him; whereupon Mr. Stone, with his 
characteristic courtesy, in a very natural and 
sincere tone, said, “Go ahead, young man, I 
never take precedence of any Officer of the 
United States, Army or Navy.” The consider¬ 
ation shown was unusual, and would naturally 
tend to make a junior officer more proud of his 
position. 

A man occupying a prominent position told 
me recently that he worked for Melville Stone 
thirty-five years ago, and immediately he cor¬ 
rected himself by saying, “No, that is not cor¬ 
rect; no man ever worked for Melville Stone— 
they worked with him.” 



XVII 

The Spanish Americans 

I N 1916 1 made a cruise around South Amer¬ 
ica in the old Kroonland. I think that 
my impressions of our Southern neighbors 
were more favorable than those of most voy¬ 
agers. 

South America is a vast continent, containing 
many races and nations; and it is as correct 
and definite to speak of South Americans as a 
whole as it would be to consider Costa Ricans, 
Guatemalans, Mexicans, Canadians, and citi¬ 
zens of the United States as North Americans. 
165 









166 


MY DITTY BAG 


For the first time I heard in Callao of a book, 
“To Hell and Back,” written by a sensational 
minister in Minneapolis, Rev. Golightly Morrill. 
Our reverend friend did not “go lightly” in his 
criticism of our southern neighbors. He found 
little but ignorance, idolatry and illegitimacy 
from Cartagena to Cape Horn. His book was 
quite well known in Chili and the Argentine, 
but almost unheard of in our own country. It is 
the kind of a book that a bigoted Brazilian might 
have written after a hurried tour in the United 
States, in which he featured strongly, and spe¬ 
cially, the existence of the “gang” in New York, 
the crimes of violence, our robberies and whole¬ 
sale stock swindles, the ignorance of the Russian 
Jews and the Southern Italians, the murders in 
Chicago, the lynchings in the South, and the 
awful savagery and brutality at Herrin. 

It is easy to offend the pride of a sensitive 
people; it is difficult to eradicate the resent¬ 
ments that unfair and hostile criticism provokes. 
What Dickens and Mrs. Trollope said about us 
in our young days was mild compared with Mor¬ 
rill’s strictures on the South Americans, and yet 
the English criticism rankled in us for nearly a 
century. A distinguished Argentine remarked 


THE SPANISH AMERICANS 167 

to me that if one of our prominent men would 
write as sympathetic and appreciative a book 
about South America as Lord Bryce wrote on 
the United States it would do more to cement 
pleasant relations between the two continents 
than all the treaties and conventions combined. 

If we are to extend our commercial and social 
relations with our southern neighbors I am sure 
that we ought to comprehend their point of view 
better than most of us do. I was fortunate in 
meeting several educated and prominent men in 
Chili and the Argentine, well informed and inde¬ 
pendent, who, when they found that I was not 
likely to be offended at the truth, and wished 
for their honest opinions, gave me much more 
reliable information than I had received in lis¬ 
tening to Chamber of Commerce addresses in 
the United States, to diplomatic utterances— 
even more than American bankers receive from 
eager and prospective borrowers. 

I am satisfied that the South Americans, using 
the term broadly, do not like us, and why should 
they? The English have loaned large sums to 
most of the Southern Nations; they have built 
docks, railroads and warehouses; have organ¬ 
ized banks, steamship companies and large com- 


168 


MY DITTY BAG 


mercial companies, and aided greatly in devel¬ 
oping the newer countries. Now an Englishman 
is as conceitedly confident of the superiority of 
the Anglo-Saxon race as we are, but centuries of 
trading all over the world have taught him the 
wisdom of concealing his real opinion of for¬ 
eigners. Consequently his criticisms are usually 
made in private; whereas our youthful Ameri¬ 
can is apt to speak loudly, freely and at all times, 
giving his opinion quite frankly about the faults 
and shortcomings of all foreigners, even when 
they are present and listening. Old Saladin was 
sagacious when he said, “A fool points to a spot 
on the carpet: a wise man covers it with the hem 
of his garment.” 

The Germans usually speak Spanish well, and 
they go to Chili, and other Latin-American 
countries, with their usual thoroughness and 
preparedness. They are likely to marry there, 
and grow up with the country. They invest 
German capital, and do all that they can to 
establish most cordial relations with their neigh¬ 
bors and to become “simpatico.” They are 
energetic, hard working, and desire to please. 

The French, I think, are the most popular 
people in the Argentine. All Argentines who 


THE SPANISH AMERICANS 


169 


can afford it go to Paris as frequently as pos¬ 
sible. They speak French fluently, they educate 
their young men as artists, architects, surgeons 
and scientists in Paris, and draw their art, 
drama, music and literature from the same 
source. Naturally their women buy their gowns 
and millinery there. Our consul general in Paris 
told me in 1912 that the shopkeepers there said 
that the South Americans spent more money in 
Paris than the North Americans. 

Fifty years ago, before the passage of some 
of our extradition treaties, many of our best 
known representatives in Buenos Aires left our 
country for their country’s good. Later, when 
an American went to any part of South America, 
he considered himself an exile. He wanted to 
make all the money he could, as soon as he 
could. He had no intention of identifying 
himself with the customs and life of the foreign 
people he was among, but always retained a 
secret contempt for them, and longed for home. 
We are fortunate in having so many good oppor¬ 
tunities in our own favored land that our capable 
young men have little incentive to seek their 
fortunes abroad, as the English and Germans 
have. 


170 


MY DITTY BAG 


When our agents attempt to sell our goods in 
the Southern continent they are prone to insist 
upon our methods and our terms. When in Rio 
de Janeiro, I was waiting in a little sheltered 
alcove while the head of a Brazilian firm re¬ 
ceived an American representative of a large 
company. This American “salesman” displayed 
a handsome album, indicating a large and im¬ 
posing factory exterior and interior, stated the 
quantity of floor space occupied, the total sales, 
and other information that he thought likely to 
impress his prospective customer. After a 
brief pause, when he got out of breath, he went 
on to say that his company sold only for cash, 
and “did not propose to grant the long terms that 
his foolish English and German competitors did 
—this was very bad business, entirely unlike the 
superior method of the American.” He could 
not speak a word of Spanish or Portuguese, and 
not very good English. Finally the Brazilian 
dismissed his caller, saying, like an organ 
grinder, “Me no spike English; vera good, my 
secretary will write.” 

We went out to a neighboring cafe, which is 
the proper thing in the forenoon, and had a cup 
of coffee. My host said, “That man made me 


THE SPANISH AMERICANS 


171 


sleepy,” but made no attempt to explain how he 
had forgotten the fluent English that he spoke 
the previous afternoon when we had been out 
automobile riding together. 

As a good American I recognize the inferiority 
of the Latin civilization, and the superiority of 
the Anglo-Saxon, but for what seem to me to be 
good reasons, I believe we are unduly harsh in 
our judgment of the Spaniards and Spanish 
Americans. We have not only our own preju¬ 
dices, but have inherited the prejudices of 
our English ancestors, from whom we have 
derived most of our history and literature; and 
for centuries the Spaniards were the bitter 
racial, religious and commercial rivals of the 
English. I flattered myself that I knew all about 
the Spaniards before I was fifteen years old. 
Had I not read DeFoe, Kingsley, and various 
balladists and historians? Did not Robinson 
Crusoe frequently go out before breakfast and 
pot a few brace of Spaniards? Sometimes they 
were shot, sometimes they begged, but the result 
was always the same. Did not Amyas Leigh 
swing his trusty blade and annihilate all the 
great Dons in short order, except those who sued 
for his gracious mercy? Were not all Spaniards 


172 


MY DITTY BAG 


arbitrary, haughty, bigoted, cruel and cow¬ 
ardly? And so on. In short, I knew them as 
most American boys did. 

In 1885 I spent several weeks in Southern 
Spain. By that visit many of my earlier im¬ 
pressions were modified greatly. I found the 
Andalusians the most democratic people I had 
ever seen—courteous, happy, light-hearted. My 
subsequent experiences in Spain and with Span¬ 
ish Americans confirmed my modified opinions. 

The typical Spanish-American merchant is 
strongly individualistic, hard-working, and hon¬ 
est. If he were not honest, the English and 
German companies could not afford to give him 
the long credits that they customarily give. 

The relations between buyers and sellers are 
different in the Argentine or Chili from those 
prevalent in the United States. Their relations 
are more personal, more in the nature of part¬ 
nerships, more enduring, and there is an assump¬ 
tion of mutual advantage and permanent busi¬ 
ness connection. If an obligation is not met 
promptly at maturity, little apology is made 
—or expected—for asking a reasonable exten¬ 
sion, which is almost invariably granted in a 
courteous manner. If a customer happens to 


THE SPANISH AMERICANS 


173 


have surplus funds at certain seasons, he not 
infrequently asks the company that sells to him 
if it can use this money to advantage. 


XVIII 

Chili, Buenos Aires and Brazil 

HE Chilians have not felt as 
cordial and friendly toward 
the United States for at 
least a century as they have 
toward several of the Euro¬ 
pean nations. I am not sure 
as to the origin of what I 
might term a mild hostility 
toward the Americans, but 
it is recorded in history that in the war of 1812, 
when the English ship Phoebe engaged and cap¬ 
tured our sloop of war Essex within the sight 
of Valparaiso, the sympathies of the Chilians 
were decidedly with the English. Several val¬ 
iant Irishmen assisted materially in aiding Chili 
in her war for independence. When James G. 
Blaine was Secretary of State he sustained Min¬ 
ister Egan in his rather domineering position 
toward Chili, and we forced Chili to pay an 
indemnity which the Chilians have always re¬ 
garded as unjust. 



174 



CHILI, BUENOS AIRES AND BRAZIL 175 


The Germans have important settlements in 
southern Chili. The German military system 
was adopted by the Chilian Army, and German 
financial interests were quite influential. Some 
of our admirals and ministers have offended the 
Chilians by their arrogant conduct, and the ex¬ 
ports from Chili to the United States are com¬ 
paratively unimportant. The people of Chili 
are proud and sensitive, and resent the actions 
and criticisms of many Americans, I think, to 
a greater extent than the people of any of the 
other South American countries. 

Santiago is a very attractive city, and has 
one of the most beautiful and well-kept ceme¬ 
teries in the world. Climatic conditions favor 
the upkeep of flowers, trees and shrubs, and 
prevent the decay of many of the fine statues 
and figures found in the cemetery. 

The Chilian ladies claim, and I think with a 
considerable degree of justice, to be the finest 
housekeepers in the world, as the old-fashioned 
virtue of good housekeeping is rapidly becoming 
obsolete in the United States. I was most hos¬ 
pitably entertained at a fine Chilian residence 
at Santiago, almost under the shadow of the 
Andes, and we had a most delicious and delight- 


176 


MY DITTY BAG 


ful afternoon tea. The hostess said, with par¬ 
donable pride, that all the cakes, preserves and 
confections were of her own making. We went 
upstairs to get a better view of the mountains, 
and the entire house was in perfect order, vacu¬ 
um carafes in the bedrooms, a victrola in the 
library, and all the modern comforts that we 
had at home. The neatness, comfort and artis¬ 
tic arrangement were the more impressive be¬ 
cause our visit was unexpected. 

The railroad trip from the Andes and across 
the Pampas to Buenos Aires is comfortable and 
interesting. When on the sleeping cars I heard, 
every morning, cackling hens and crowing roos¬ 
ters, even when we did not seem to be near any 
station. On looking over our car more carefully 
I found that when broiled chicken was served, 
the chef went to the hen-coops on the bottom of 
the cars, where the chickens were fed and kept 
alive until they were wanted. The land seen 
from the cars for a hundred miles on both sides 
of the railroad reminded me of the rich, dark, 
fine agricultural soil found in the Red River 
Valley and on our best prairie lands in the 
Northwest. 

The Argentine is undoubtedly a very rich 


CHILI, BUENOS AIRES AND BRAZIL 177 

country, and, so far as I can judge, its future de¬ 
velopment will have less religious influence than 
the development of any other important nation 
in the world. 

Most of the women seem to attend church 
quite regularly, but a large majority of the men 
who attend seem to do so in a perfunctory way. 
From the early days the Argentines have re¬ 
sented any religious interference, and the 
churches seem to have little real influence. The 
Argentine people, however, impressed me as be¬ 
ing sympathetic and charitable. I went over 
some fine hospitals in Buenos Aires, and chari¬ 
table institutions were everywhere in evidence. 

The well-known newspaper office of La 
Prensa is one of the finest in the world. The 
Grand Opera House is better than any I am 
familiar with in this country, and I have never 
been in a more elaborate or better managed 
club than the Jockey Club of Buenos Aires, 
which enjoys quite a large revenue from the 
race-course privileges. I understood that any 
member of the club who is traveling, and sees 
anything new and attractive that he thinks 
would be suitable for the club, has carte blanche 
to purchase it for the club. The club has a 


178 MY DITTY BAG 

wonderfully fine collection of paintings, partic¬ 
ularly those of the modern Spanish artists. 

The Argentines are very temperate, and while 
you can buy a fair red wine at almost any street 
comer for ten or twelve cents a bottle, I never 
saw a drunken native. Frank G. Carpenter, in 
his letters, corroborates this statement. The 
only reason for a Volstead Act in the Argentine 
would be to restrict the weakness of visitors. 

I was fortunate in having some letters of in¬ 
troduction that made my stay in Buenos Aires 
very pleasant. I was still more fortunate in 
having my friend, Mr. Edmund J. Phelps, of 
Minneapolis, as a traveling companion. As we 
became better acquainted, several of our Ar¬ 
gentine friends felt free to make some mild criti¬ 
cisms of our great country, which a borrowing 
Argentine banker, visiting New York and seek¬ 
ing a loan, would not make openly. 

Mr. Phelps spoke French fluently, and Span¬ 
ish fairly well. This appealed to the educated 
Argentines, who usually speak at least three 
languages fluently. Mr. Phelps was also an 
excellent judge of paintings, and was promin¬ 
ently connected with the Minneapolis Orches¬ 
tra Association. While it was out of season 


CHILI, BUENOS AIRES AND BRAZIL 179 

the Director of the Municipal Band gave an 
open-air park concert in honor of Mr. Phelps, 
who spent the preceding afternoon in selecting 
a program, and criticized competently several 
productions. Mr. Phelps had also been Presi¬ 
dent of the Park Board of Minneapolis, and a 
fine foreign car was placed at his disposal by 
the Park Commissioner at Buenos Aires, which 
city has a very excellent system of parks. So 
far as I know, Buenos Aires is the only city in 
the world that systematically educates students 
for park superintendents. These young men 
study for four hours each day, and work on the 
parks for four hours. At the end of two years 
they are given their diplomas, and many of 
these Argentines have gone abroad and got ex¬ 
cellent positions in parks in other cities. 

A very well-known and prominent Argentine 
asked me why we did not send more Americans 
like Mr. Phelps to visit them. His courtesy and 
his artistic and linguistic attainments were cor¬ 
dially appreciated by the Argentines. 

Buenos Aires is a seaport city of over two 
million people, yet, according to actual police 
records, crimes of violence there are not one- 
fourth what they are in Chicago. 


180 


MY DITTY BAG 


jf* 

An ex-under-Secretary of State said, speak¬ 
ing of the Monroe Doctrine, “You know, Cap¬ 
tain, some people like to select their own older 
brothers,” and he was rather sarcastic when he 
referred to the claim which we of the United 
States often make that the Monroe Doctrine 
is for the benefit of the weaker South American 
nations. He said there was no case on record, 
so far as he knew, where any South Americans 
had ever invoked the protection of the Monroe 
Doctrine. He stated further that in his opinion 
the Argentine Republic would much prefer to 
have a guarantee of protection against the 
United States than against any of the European 
nations. 

In my opinion we are not going to make any 
real commercial progress, on an even basis, in 
South America until we eradicate many of our 
prejudices, cultivate courtesy, and learn a bet¬ 
ter appreciation of the Latin point of view. The 
truth is that a large majority of North Amer¬ 
icans regard the South Americans as an inferior 
race, and have a concealed contempt for the 
“Dagoes,” as they are commonly termed. The 
South Americans naturally resent this attitude, 
and when they are sufficiently independent to 


CHILI, BUENOS AIRES AND BRAZIL 181 


do so are inclined to taunt the North Americans 
as being money-worshippers. Although conced¬ 
ing the wealth and luxury of the United States, 
they do not think we have accomplished much 
in the realms of art, music, or literature. 

We can, and should, make an effort to realize 
that the Latin races are artistic, logical, keen, 
and sensitive, and we must become more liberal 
in our attitude if we are going to endeavor to 
cultivate cordial and friendly relations with 
them. 

I think we are more popular in Brazil than in 
any other South American country. That, prob¬ 
ably, is because we buy a much larger percent¬ 
age of Brazilian exports than any other country, 
and because it is quite a common belief in Brazil 
that our people are at least partly colored. Then, 
the fact that President Cleveland decided an 
arbitration in favor of Brazil against the Ar¬ 
gentine has doubtless had some influence. 

There is very little color prejudice in Brazil. 
It is quite common to see a large full-blooded 
negro walking on the street arm in arm with a 
smaller Caucasian, and apparently getting along 
in the most fraternal way. 

The vast resources of Brazil are practically 


182 


MY DITTY BAG 


untouched, offering a wonderful opportunity for 
the expansion of grazing and agricultural de¬ 
velopments. 

The zoological gardens and aquarium at Para 
are among the most interesting in the world. 
The specimens come almost entirely from the 
Amazonian Provinces, in which Para is located. 
The superintendent of the zoological gardens is 
a German woman, and she is most capable, hav¬ 
ing a wonderful influence over the animals. The 
monkeys would cry for her as she passed down 
the walk, and would moan and shriek until she 
went back and petted them. Even the snakes 
seemed to like her caresses. 

The Germans have a very efficient and eco¬ 
nomical banking system in most large cities in 
South America. On two or three occasions I 
consulted with the officers of some German 
banks, and was greatly impressed by the won¬ 
derful fund of information they had regarding 
different firms and individuals. 

So far as I recall I did not notice any prom¬ 
inent Hebrews in South America. Buenos Aires 
is a very important banking city, and yet so far 
as I could learn there were no prominent 
Hebrew bankers there. I have not seen this fact 


CHILI, BUENOS AIRES AND BRAZIL 183 

commented upon by other travelers, and I am 
not quite clear as to why the Hebrews should 
be less prominent there than in other parts of 
the world. I asked one of my Spanish friends 
in Havana why this was, and he said: “We 
Spanish work so much harder and more eco¬ 
nomically than the Hebrews that there is no 
chance for them to get rich among us.’ Per¬ 
haps it was on the same principle as this that 
the only Jew reported in Glasgow was one who 
could not get money enough with which to get 
out of town. 


XIX 


Why We Cannot Have a Mercantile 
Marine as We Had Fifty Years Ago 

ANY Americans have a com¬ 
mendable patriotic pride in 
our futile endeavor to build 
up a mercantile marine, but 
their enthusiasm is much 
greater than their knowledge 
of the practical difficulties. 
Our orators delight to refer to 
Old Glory in tremulous tones, 
to insist vigorously and vocipotently that we 
must have the largest fleet on the ocean, that 
our flag must fly in every harbor—ignoring 
entirely the question of cost and natural con¬ 
ditions. The poor taxpayers foot the bills, and, 
indirectly, that means that all of us contribute. 

It is a common error to assume that “com¬ 
merce follows the flag.” The relative increase 
in our foreign commerce was greater for a few 
years before the war than it has been since. 

184 



A MERCANTILE MARINE 


185 


Prior to 1914, Russia was a great exporting na¬ 
tion—her shipping interest was comparatively 
insignificant. Argentina has large and increas¬ 
ing exports, all carried in foreign bottoms. 
Italy’s merchant fleet is much larger relatively 
than her exports. We find American automo¬ 
biles in all parts of the civilized world. Ninety 
per cent of these were delivered by foreign ves¬ 
sels. Would a Japanese automobile buyer think 
it a privilege to have his automobile carried by 
American ships? All things being equal the 
foreign buyers naturally prefer to transport any 
merchandise that they buy in vessels of their 
own country. The most ardent advocates of an 
American mercantile marine have never claimed 
that we could operate vessels more economically 
than foreigners can. On an equal basis an Eng¬ 
lish buyer will ship in English vessels his pur¬ 
chases made in the United States. We have 
cut, and in the future shall be obliged to cut 
again, freight and passenger rates. Our Gov¬ 
ernment must make up the deficit in our marine 
operations. Other nations must meet our ab¬ 
sorption of deficit, or have their ships driven 
from the seas. 

It is difficult for any one to determine exactly 


186 


MY DITTY BAG 


what our attempt to rehabilitate our mercantile 
marine has cost us, and it is very difficult to 
separate the legitimate expenses incurred dur¬ 
ing the war, when money was not an object, 
from the subsequent losses. Our gross expend¬ 
itures were nearer two billion dollars than one 
billion, and we have lost many millions of dol¬ 
lars. Our annual loss this year, including depre¬ 
ciation, will be from $35,000,000 to $70,000,000, 
depending to quite an extent upon how de¬ 
preciation is figured, when taken, and the num¬ 
ber of vessels sold. 

During the war, when it was proposed that 
the Government should take over and operate 
some of the large steel companies, the officers 
and stockholders of these companies remon¬ 
strated vigorously, and spent thousands of dol¬ 
lars in circulating printed statements—from 
which it was a fair inference that the operation 
of these companies was profitable to the stock¬ 
holders. It is very seldom that any profitable 
private enterprise is recommended to the Gov¬ 
ernment. If it were true that an American mer¬ 
cantile marine would yield good return to the 
investor, there are many capitalists who could 
readily raise millions of dollars to buy and oper- 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 187 

ate ships under our flag; but it is better to “let 
the Government do it.” 

Thousands of patriotic Americans would be 
glad to invest in shipping companies if this in¬ 
vestment were recommended by prominent 
bankers and those competent to manage, who 
would further evince their good faith by liberal 
subscriptions to the stock. 

Any general restoration of our mercantile ma¬ 
rine on a paying basis is impossible, for the 
following reasons: American vessels cost more 
to build than do foreign vessels; wages of Amer¬ 
ican officers and sailors are higher than those 
paid by their competitors; American investors 
would expect a larger return on capital invested 
in shipping than the foreign companies are able 
to make, and the standard of living on American 
vessels is higher, and hence more expensive. 

The oceans are naturally free, and heretofore 
the great maritime nations have attained im¬ 
portance, not through the aid of Government 
assistance, but because their sailors in years 
gone by were more hardy, more brave, or more 
adventurous than their competitors. At present 
supremacy is attained when vessels of any 
nation can be operated more ably and econom- 


188 


MY DITTY BAG 


ically than those of their competitors, and hence 
serve the world more advantageously as com¬ 
mon carriers. 

The United States is handicapped more than 
any other nation in attempting to reestablish a 
mercantile marine by the aid of assistance from 
the Government. Because of the superior oppor¬ 
tunities offered its citizens on shore, there is 
today no incentive for capable, ambitious young 
Americans to go to sea, and few who are com¬ 
petently advised take the chance. 

It has been suggested frequently that we at¬ 
tempt to compete for the carrying trade of the 
Pacific. The Japanese sailors are content to 
work for much less than our so-called American 
sailors are. The Japanese sailor is paid as well, 
proportionately, as the Japanese a-shore. On 
the other hand, few native-born Americans can 
be found among our Pacific sailors, because they 
find better opportunities on land. Are we ready 
to pay each American sailor on the Pacific a 
monthly bonus in a vain endeavor to resurrect 
our mercantile marine? 

It may be a wise business policy for the Jap¬ 
anese to encourage the establishment of steam¬ 
ship companies, and to aid them by compara- 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 189 

tively small subsidies, since it is evident that 
Japan is in a position to compete successfully 
for the carrying trade of the world with tem¬ 
porary assistance. We are not. The Japanese 
have no handicap in wages, no additional cost 
of ships, and no extra cost of operations, as we 
should have. 

Our subsidy advocates are prone to refer to 
our former maritime supremacy, but during that 
period of supremacy America had the following 
distinct advantages: first, the cheapest and best 
lumber and spars in the world; second, the 
ablest and best ship-designers, builders, carpen¬ 
ters, sailmakers and riggers; third, an overseas 
carrying trade, which was usually profitable and 
yielded a large return on the capital invested. 
Fifty years ago it was not at all uncommon for 
an American clipper ship to pay for herself in 
one voyage. Today, with the exception of iron 
considered as raw material, which is not rela¬ 
tively as important in the cost of a modern ship 
as wood was fifty years ago, we have no advan¬ 
tage over the foreigner. Besides this, there is— 
perhaps the most important factor of all—the 
fact that the Suez and Panama Canals, the sub¬ 
marine cables, and the systematizing of freight- 


190 


MY DITTY BAG 


ing by modern methods have reduced the 
overseas carrying trade to a well-established 
and well-regulated business, which is keenly 
competed for, and which yields only what would 
be regarded in this country as a very small 
return on the capital invested. 

It would be impossible to interest any suc¬ 
cessful and well-informed capitalist in an 
American steamship line for the transatlantic 
trade, because an American company could not 
pay a fair return on the capital invested. 

Other qualities were demanded from sailors 
fifty years ago than those which are required 
today. The opportunity for exhibition of supe¬ 
riority to any appreciable degree is gone, be¬ 
cause the qualities necessary now rest in mech¬ 
anism and not in personnel. Captains cannot 
“carry on steam,” as they carried on sail. The 
speed of a modern steamship is largely beyond 
the control of the captain and crew; it is de¬ 
pendent upon mechanical appliances. Activity, 
adaptability, and all-around skill are not needed 
by seamen as they were in the days of the 
supremacy of the American sailing ship. 

The Americans were not only more capable 
but they did more and better work, and the 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 191 

foreigners who sailed in American ships easily 
became Americanized in this respect. Robert 
Louis Stevenson, in “The Wrecker,” has very 
cleverly sketched Nares, the typical Yankee 
sailor; yet Nares would die of ennui on board 
a modern freighter. The glories of the Ameri¬ 
can sailor are in the past and can never be 
revived. 

A story of a forgotten American clipper may 
be of interest. The little chronicled and almost 
forgotten achievement of the clipper ship Trade- 
wind, in sailing from San Francisco to New 
York, in 1853, in seventy-five days, was a re¬ 
markable feat of American seamanship. 

Think of the ceaseless vigilance for seventy- 
five days of the forgotten captain of the Trade- 
wind. It is substantially true that not a mile of 
distance was lost during this famous passage. 
Few in this generation are capable of appreciat¬ 
ing the alertness, the watchfulness, and the sea¬ 
manship required to make this passage by sail. 
By day or by night, if the leech of a topgallant 
sail was a few inches slack, up went the halyards. 
If the foot of the sail did not set like a board, 
out went the sheets. The braces were watched 
and tended with every varying wind. It be- 


192 


MY DITTY BAG 


hooved the helmsman to steer straight, or take 
the consequences. Every yard of canvas that 
she could carry was pressed on the ship, and if 
forced to take in sail the moderating wind was 
anticipated, and sails were again set at the first 
opportunity offered. A sailor alone can fully 
understand how sail was carried on in squalls 
and gales. Some one knew and trusted each 
spar, backstay, lanyard and sheet, halyard and 
brace. Constant and capable care and super¬ 
vision were the price of speed. How the Trade- 
wind hugged the dark and dismal rocks of Diego 
Ramires, as she went around the Horn in a 
southerly gale, may never be known. The 
chances the captain took, as the wind veered to 
the eastward in skirting the barren shores of 
the extreme of the South American continent, 
will never be recorded. It is fair to assume that 
he pressed his ship and trusted to his spars 
and canvas. Not twenty per cent of the 
steamers afloat today could make this passage 
around Cape Horn in seventy-five days. 

But there is now no use for the sailors of the 
old school; nor is there anything in the present 
sea life to attract the same class of men. It 
should be remembered that the seafarers were 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 


193 


well paid in proportion to other vocations at 
that period. The wealthy and prominent men 
in many of the old New England seaboard towns 
were merchants and master mariners, and a 
love of the sea did not debar a young man from 
making a financial success. 

Today the competitive ocean trade offers no 
such allurements. Young Americans who have 
brains, dash, and ability can find much better 
opportunities to exercise these qualities upon 
land, and this is not true of citizens of other 
countries. 

We can never achieve commercial importance 
as a maritime nation until we can build ships 
as cheaply, operate them at as low a cost, and 
be content with the same return on the capital 
invested as our foreign competitors receive. 
And this cannot come about while we have such 
prosperity and opportunities as at present exist 
in our fortunate country. Our home industries 
are supposed to be protected sufficiently to en¬ 
able them to earn profits in our own country 
never to such an extent as to place them in a 
position to compete in the open markets of the 
world. And that would be necessary with a sub¬ 
sidized mercantile marine. 


194 


MY DITTY BAG 


It would be much cheaper than our present 
policy to transfer existing foreign steamships to 
some European nation and pay it a small bonus 
to sail under our flag, if we have an irresistible 
desire to see Old Glory again on the ocean. In 
political speeches, “Trade follows the flag”; but 
this is true in actual business experience only 
if we have cheaper and better commodities to 
sell. 

The large amount of money that we pay for¬ 
eigners for carrying our products is a matter of 
common comment; but the truth is not gener¬ 
ally appreciated. These products really belong 
to the foreigners, and are practically sold f.o.b., 
point of shipment. If, for example, a merchant 
in Bremen buys ten thousand bales of cotton 
in Charleston, he will get his cotton to Bremen 
by what he regards as the cheapest and most 
acceptable route. If we concede that American 
vessels cannot carry freight across the Atlantic 
cheaper than their foreign competitors can, it 
is obvious that the Bremen buyer would prefer 
to ship his purchases by any vessel carrying the 
flag of his own country—unless we should grant 
a lower rate. It is beyond the province of any 
American seller to dictate in any way what 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 195 

company the foreign buyer shall employ to 
transport his own property. Even on an equal 
basis, if the former buyer happens to be inter¬ 
ested in German steamers, naturally it will be 
for his own interest to favor his own company. 
When an Englishman buys grain on the Atlantic 
seaboard it is surely his privilege to have it 
transported in his own vessels. The foreign 
buyer is under no obligation whatever to ship 
his merchandise in American vessels. 

Every State that is washed by lake or ocean 
ought to give liberal support to marine reserve 
vessels, which should be further assisted and 
supervised by the United States Government. 
There are thousands of active, well-educated, 
adventurous young Americans who have a nat¬ 
ural love for the sea, and who would be glad to 
enlist in the naval marine if their services were 
properly recognized, and if they were as honor¬ 
ably regarded as they deserve. 

We have still remaining some fine sailors in 
command of our coastwise and foreign steam¬ 
ships, who are as competent and eligible for the 
Naval Reserve as the members of the Royal 
Naval Reserve of England. We should encour¬ 
age our young men to enlist in our navy, and we 


196 


MY DITTY BAG 


should pay sufficient wages to compensate them 
for the services rendered. 

We should not attempt to delude the Amer¬ 
ican people into the idea that they are really 
reviving American shipping. I am not attempt¬ 
ing to urge the advantages or disadvantages of 
subsidizing a few steamers for naval purposes, 
but I wish to state, in the most positive manner, 
that we cannot rehabilitate by Government as¬ 
sistance an American mercantile marine worthy 
of the name. 

There are many factors that militate against 
the profitable operations of an American mer¬ 
cantile marine. The carrying of passengers 
from many ports of Europe to South America 
and Australia is very remunerative. Thousands 
of laborers leave Europe each year for the 
Argentine. Many of them return regularly after 
the harvest season. They naturally patronize 
European in preference to American steamers. 
Latin South-Americans almost without excep¬ 
tion prefer to travel on foreign steamers—par¬ 
ticularly the wealthy classes, who seek Paris as 
a Mecca for artistic, educational, or pleasure 
purposes. Our people do not emigrate—they 
have no temptation to leave their great and pros- 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 197 

perous country. This fact tends to reduce ma¬ 
terially our revenue from steamers. 

Our Eighteenth Amendment is not attractive 
to South Americans, who, like their ancestors 
for many centuries, have been accustomed to 
using light wines with their meals. The hor¬ 
rible depravity of having a glass of wine with 
dinner is well recognized by the virtuous Amer¬ 
icans, but many of the foreigners are unregen¬ 
erate. Comparatively few business men in 
South America have any business in the United 
States—many have in Europe. 

Chili and Argentina sell large quantities of 
copper, nitrates, wheat, mutton, wool, hides, 
and flax to Great Britain and the Continent. 
This large quantity of heavy freight would, nat¬ 
urally, be carried in foreign bottoms. The Eng¬ 
lish, German, French, and Italians would not be 
likely to patronize American steamers in prefer¬ 
ence to the vessels of their own country. It is 
usual to buy where you sell. A merchant in 
Buenos Aires, selling his produce in London, 
is likely to go there to see his customers. It is 
easy and reciprocal for him to buy whatever 
he needs in England—incidentally increasing 
the freight carried by English vessels. Our im- 


198 


MY DITTY BAG 


ports from important buying countries are rela¬ 
tively small, and foreigners are not likely to buy 
much where they can sell so little. Fortunately 
we are so favorably situated that we are not 
compelled to import our wheat, meat, food prod¬ 
ucts, nor much of our raw materials. 

Our present tariff is framed on the theory 
that duties are levied to equalize the cost of an 
article produced in the United States with the 
cost of the same article produced in Europe. 
Now assuming that our duties are equitably 
levied, please read one of our complete tariff- 
schedules and see how few articles we can hope 
to export profitably. It can hardly be expected 
that the generous foreign buyer will pay for 
an American article five to one hundred per 
cent more than the price for which he can pur¬ 
chase the same article in Europe—and sell some 
of his own products practically as part of the 
trade. Here again the natural business condi¬ 
tions favor the foreign steamers by increasing 
the quantity of the freight carried. 

We should be grateful that our country is 
so independent of exports and imports. In or¬ 
der to reduce the cost of goods for exports we 
must reduce wages and decrease the standard 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 199 

of living of our American workmen. Surely it 
is not desirable to increase export tonnage 
merely to pay for an unprofitable adventure 
in shipping. 

We are greatly interested in the rehabilitation 
of Europe. We are sympathetic and our ma¬ 
terial assistance is frequently asked for and ad¬ 
vocated ; but our efforts to build up a mercantile 
marine at an annual sacrifice of many millions 
of dollars have injured the foreign steamship 
companies, and in some cases our competition 
has made their shipping operations unprofitable. 
Our futile efforts to compete for the open carry¬ 
ing trade of the world, in view of our great 
material resources, remind me of the covetous 
rich man in the Scriptures who wanted the poor 
man’s one ewe lamb. 

The Germans are popular in South America. 
Their economy and efficiency are generally rec¬ 
ognized. When Germany has been restored to 
normality, it is evident that her people will 
build and operate steamships, and make a hand¬ 
some profit, while we are showing serious 
losses. 

My observations and illustrations shall not 
be all theoretical. I am the president of a com- 


200 


MY DITTY BAG 


pany owning a factory in Belgium. We were 
shipping plate glass by foreign steamers in 
November, 1923, from Antwerp to San Fran¬ 
cisco, for eight dollars per ton. The present 
rate from Baltimore to San Francisco, by Amer¬ 
ican steamers, is nineteen dollars per ton, after 
we have shipped from our Eastern factory to 
Baltimore by rail. Is this a practical manifesta¬ 
tion of our competitive ability? 

Shortly after the World War the largest win¬ 
dow-glass importer on our Pacific Coast, influ¬ 
enced by the enthusiasm rife at that time, with 
commendable patriotism ordered that all the 
window-glass his company bought in Belgium 
should be shipped in American bottoms. After 
several shipments he was compelled to counter¬ 
mand these instructions, and all glass was 
shipped by foreign vessels. This was not due 
so much to lower freight rates as to the exces¬ 
sive breakage on glass. The crews of the Danish 
steamers were much more careful in loading and 
unloading, and, when the glass was discharged, 
it was found that there was a minimum break¬ 
age. The Danes valued their job. The Danish 
sailor was obliged by force of necessity to be 
careful, or his record suffered—possibly he was 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 201 

discharged, and he was well paid compared with 
the same class of employees in Denmark. Ne¬ 
cessity is a great stimulator. The Danish sailor 
feels its urge; the American sailor does not. 
American sailors can usually find a job, due to 
a legitimate demand for their services, or the 
influence of the Seamen’s Union. If they can¬ 
not, and are able-bodied and ready to work, 
they can readily find on shore as remunerative 
a position as that of a sailor on an American 
vessel. Our sailors care little if half a cargo of 
glass is broken. It means nothing to them; and 
if the Government deficit is increased a few 
thousand dollars why should they worry! The 
Danish sailor realizes what a loss of profit means 
to his owners, and may mean to him. One 
reason why our so-called American seamen can¬ 
not compete with many foreign seamen is be¬ 
cause they do not have to. 

Now I am not unpatriotic, not pessimistic, 
not hopeless. I consider our mercantile marine 
from the point of view of a practical business 
man, who has traveled much, and had command 
of an American vessel in foreign waters for sev¬ 
eral years, and as one who has always been 
interested in our maritime affairs; and I have 


202 


MY DITTY BAG 


clear and decided views on this subject, which 
I present for what they may be worth. 

Our Navy Department should be consulted, 
and we should own and operate whatever 
amount of tonnage it advises would be required 
to serve as a necessary adjunct to the navy in 
any emergency that could reasonably be con¬ 
templated, having in mind the sentiment and 
treaties that tend to limit the size of navies, and 
remembering that only once in one hundred and 
fifty years have we found it necessary to inter¬ 
fere in European affairs to the extent of sending 
our troops to Europe. 

We need a strong, modern navy for our own 
protection, and every American has good reason 
to feel proud of the naval history of our country. 
I would not be averse to a more intimate rela¬ 
tionship between our navy and our mercantile 
marine. One of the most successful steamship 
managers that I know of is an ex-naval officer 
and an Annapolis graduate. We have lost the 
services of many competent officers who were in 
our navy during the late war, who should have 
been recognized and rewarded by good positions 
in our merchant steamers. 

After providing for all steamers that are es- 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 203 

sential to our naval operations, I would employ 
them, and some of our remaining vessels, on a 
few of the great traveled routes between the 
United States and the more important foreign 
countries, where we are best able to compete 
and most likely to develop future trade. If the 
four fine steamers that we now have on the 
North Atlantic become popular and self-sup¬ 
porting, it would seem to be advisable to in¬ 
crease the number of steamers on that route. It 
would be futile to attempt to operate regularly 
steamers to Spain, Italy, and Mediterranean 
ports. We should give up routes that have been 
proved very unprofitable. It may be desirable 
to operate a few steamers for what I might term 
advertising purposes. 

I wish to emphasize that while I consider it 
desirable—nay, essential—to have a fine limited 
mercantile navy, gradually increased on lines 
that may prove profitable, it is foolish and futile 
to believe that we can compete successfully in 
the open carrying trade of the world. We have 
been carried away by sentiment, oratory, and 
desire, and have built many more vessels than 
were needed and wasted many millions of dol¬ 
lars. Let us recognize the situation. 


204 


MY DITTY BAG 


Any large important business that is success¬ 
ful has grown gradually, aided by experience 
and competent management. Business does not 
spring, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter, 
full-armed and equipped. The shipping business 
has been closely competitive, and the foreign 
shipowners have great advantages over Ameri¬ 
can lines by reason of their competency, their 
experience, and their established connections 
and clientele of many years’ standing. Can we 
not ultimately compete? Try it, and report 
progress when made; but do not rush in without 
capable, experienced men, and some knowledge 
of competitive conditions; and do not build two 
ships where only one is needed. Could the 
United States compete with the Standard Oil 
Company, the United States Steel Company, or 
any other well-managed corporation by making 
an initial expenditure of two or three billion 
dollars and attempting to operate as our Ship¬ 
ping Board has been operated? The successful 
foreign steamship companies have keener com¬ 
petition than the Standard Oil Company has. 
Their development has been gradual, and their 
profits the result of hard work, energy, econ¬ 
omy, efficiency, and enterprise—aided by the 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 205 

alertness that can be had only by the severe 
strain of close competition. 

Such vessels as we do not need, and those 
which show us the greatest losses in operation, 
should be sold for what they are worth, or char¬ 
tered to some Chinese steamship company on 
easy terms. Until final payment has been made 
the contracts for sale could provide that in time 
of war these vessels should be restored to us on 
short notice, by the payment of a small pre¬ 
mium if we so desired. 

Under our present consular regulations these 
vessels would be permitted to fly our flag and to 
retain our protection . 1 We could even insist 
on having American officers and engineers on 
these vessels until they were paid for, as was the 
case in many of the vessels of the Chinese Mer¬ 
chant Steamship Company fifty years ago. 

In years gone by we had many native craft 
on the coast of China under the Stars and 
Stripes. The Chinese are good sailors—quiet, 
and amenable to discipline. These vessels could 
be operated as economically as any in the world, 
and far more cheaply than any European steam- 

*See Section 347 of the United States Consular Regu¬ 
lations, 1896. 


206 


MY DITTY BAG 


ers. A Chinese-American Company, organized 
to operate our salable surplus stock of steamers, 
would pay good dividends. They could meet 
any competition, and be a safe, sound invest¬ 
ment. To be sure they could not trade to an 
American port, unless we enacted special legis¬ 
lation, which would probably be opposed by the 
labor unions, but the seven seas would offer the 
field for their operations, and they should secure 
a large share of the business on the coast of 
China and in the Far East. Indeed we could 
advantageously open our own ports to these 
steamers for the life of the vessels we sell. I 
do not refer to the coast trade, which we have 
always protected, and I think wisely, as there 
are many advantages in this policy; but there 
is no good object in protecting our shipping to 
such an extent as to enable our vessels to carry 
rice from India to Cuba, or grain from Argentina 
to Liverpool. 

The Chinese merchants are capable business 
men. Give them our flag for these steamers, 
and assist them in part with our capital, which 
would be a good investment. In addition it 
would be desirable, and I think feasible, to 
organize a Chinese-American Company that 


A MERCANTILE MARINE 207 

would save the United States from further 
losses. Thus we should assist a friendly nation, 
and have these vessels for a reserve supply of 
shipping for several years. 

My suggestion to sell to the Chinese is be¬ 
cause they are the most likely buyers; their 
mercantile marine is small; China has quite a 
large commerce, and the Chinese have decided 
advantages in operating. I believe that we 
could have sold many ships to a Chinese or an 
American-Chinese Company three years ago 
and saved many millions of dollars. 

As to any possible prejudice against the Chi¬ 
nese, I believe that we could make a satisfactory 
contract along the line that I have suggested 
with any of the Scandinavian nations, and pos¬ 
sibly with the Italians. 



XX 

Again Around the World 

I N November, 1922, I made a cruise around 
the world on the Cunard steamship Laconia, 
and wrote a series of circular letters to my 
friends, from which I quote in part as follows: 

November 30, 1922. 

In these days of newspapers, magazines and 
travel, one can hardly expect much that is new 
to be written about a voyage through the Pan¬ 
ama Canal, and since Hergesheimer, Mary Rob¬ 
erts Rinehart, and other authors of note have 
described Cuba and the Cubans quite fully, I 
shall waste no time on Havana, except to report 
208 









AGAIN AROUND THE WORLD 


209 


on the most excellent luncheon ordered for us 
at the Cafe Paris by Mr. Salichs. Our menu 
was as follows: 

Ostiones rubanos 
Tangreios moros al natural 
Filetes de Pargo a la Mrs. Brown 
Codornices asadas “Paris” 

Papas Juliana 
Petits pois a la francesa 
Tortilla frutas al Ron a la Mrs. Hitchcock 
Cafe 

Cocktails Presidente Chartreuse 

Jeres Manzanilla Tetros Larranagas 

The above was intended only as a recherche 
repast. It is not necessary to state that a more 
substantial menu can be served excellently at 
this cafe. 

There are few people who could anticipate 
a tour around the world with more pleasure 
than I can. My last voyage encircling the globe 
was made more than forty years ago, when I 
was in charge of a seven-hundred-ton barque. 
At that time the Great Eastern was the larg¬ 
est vessel afloat, and her size was regarded as 
too great to enable her to be employed advan¬ 
tageously in the carrying trade—her original 
use was for laying the Atlantic Cable. If I re- 


210 


MY DITTY BAG 


member correctly she was only about twelve 
thousand tons. Our present steamer is nearly 
twice that size. 

On my last voyage around the world I sailed 
from New York to Macassar, Celebes. The 
vessel was loaded with case oil, and from there 
we took ebony wood and rattans to Hongkong. 
At Hongkong we were chartered to carry three 
hundred Chinamen to Victoria, V. I. Most of 
these Chinamen after we arrived took a steamer 
furnished by their countrymen to Port Town¬ 
send. As my vessel arrived two days before the 
Chinese Emigration Act came into force, I think 
I carried the last lot of Chinese ever landed 
in the United States. We loaded lumber and 
canned salmon at Victoria for Port Natal, South 
Africa, and went around Cape Horn and Cape of 
Good Hope with a deck load of lumber; from 
Port Natal we went in ballast to Singapore; 
thence to New York, which made the circuit of 
the globe, and a voyage of about twenty months. 
The speed of the Agate under favorable con¬ 
ditions was twelve knots per hour; the Laconia 
can make seventeen knots, but she can make it 
every day regularly, which is a great advantage. 
I could write quite a chapter on the development 


AGAIN AROUND THE WORLD 211 

of shipping during the last forty years; but the 
contrast between the Agate and the Laconia is 
very great. The Laconia is a new, fine vessel, 
with all modern conveniences, a staunch and 
steady sea boat. The Cunard service is, in my 
opinion, the best in the world, and I am quite 
enthusiastic about traveling on an oil-burning 
steamer. 

During the past twenty years I have sailed 
under the flags of four different nations, and 
have been on three different English lines, so 
I have had some opportunity for comparison. 
If the service on the Laconia is a sample of the 
service on the larger boats, I do not see how 
Cunard service can be excelled. We receive the 
most constant and courteous attention, not only 
from the captain and the officers of the Laconia , 
but from all the employees; nor is it the kind of 
service which thanks you with a civil air and 
damns you with a sneer when your back is 
turned. Some one deserves a great deal of 
credit for the esprit de corps maintained on the 
Laconia. 

The famous excellence and efficiency of the 
Cunard service is the result of nearly a century 
of experience, and careful and capable manage- 


212 


MY DITTY BAG 


ment. Competent, experienced men conduct and 
control the affairs of the Cunard Company. 
When we require a head for our Shipping Board 
we select an advertising manager from Chicago. 
Chicago is a great maritime center, hence it is 
natural that we should go to the Western me¬ 
tropolis for a man experienced in shipping mat¬ 
ters. But it also should be remembered that 
Chicago is an important political center, and we 
must educate these crude Westerners about the 
advantages of a heavily subsidized mercantile 
marine. These aforesaid Westerners may not 
know how to wield a handspike, but they are 
adepts at political trading. Watch the recipro¬ 
cal bills that will be passed by Congress, provid¬ 
ing for farm loans, banking favors, and other 
advantages for the West in return for subsidy 
support. It is just to say, however, that the 
advertising of our Shipping Board is well done, 
and is a great improvement over some two years 
ago, when three different divisions of the Board 
advertised in the same issue of a popular maga¬ 
zine. 

Notwithstanding the proximity of home mar¬ 
kets, and our natural advantages, the Minne¬ 
sota farmers cannot raise wheat without protec- 


AGAIN AROUND THE WORLD 213 

tion; our sheep raisers would be ruined without 
an increased duty; California fruit growers must 
be protected against foreign competitors; we 
cannot manufacture cotton or woolen goods, 
cut lumber, manufacture chemicals, steel, glass, 
or sugar without a high tariff. Our shipbuilders 
are protected, for we cannot build ships in com¬ 
petition with other nations. Now I am quite 
ready to accede to the principle of protecting and 
developing American industries in our own 
country, but is not protection running amuck in 
its attempt to enable us to compete for the 
carrying trade of the world in the open markets, 
and in attempting to help us underbid the Jap¬ 
anese on the Pacific, the English, German, Swe¬ 
dish, Italian, Spanish and Greek ships on all the 
oceans? If a cargo of rice is to be shipped from 
Rangoon to Cuba, our American vessels must 
take the same or a lower rate than that made 
by our many foreign competitors. If with all 
of our advantages in the United States we can¬ 
not compete with the foreigners on shore, how 
can we afloat? We cannot. And whether you 
cancel our costly experiments in attempting to 
create a mercantile marine by subsidy, subven¬ 
tion, deficit, or special legislation, the fact re- 


214 


MY DITTY BAG 


mains that the taxpayers of our country are 
paying many million dollars per annum in a 
foolish and useless attempt. But we are a rich 
nation. That is the answer—and who cares? 

It is difficult to make a landsman understand 
my enthusiasm for the sea. To me a return to 
the ocean is like going back to an old home to 
make a visit, nor is it attended by the sadness 
that a man of my age feels on returning to the 
scene of his youth or his early manhood. The 
ocean is always the same, with its power, vital¬ 
ity and dignity. I see the same roll of waves 
that I saw forty years ago. The winds, tides, 
and currents follow the same courses today that 
they did a century ago. Smooth seas, blue skies, 
and brilliant nights are the same, and the 
changes in the stars are unimportant. When 
I see a school of flying fish go by I think it is 
the same school I saw when I first went to sea. 
Portuguese men-of-war must be the same, and I 
feel the same invigoration from the iodine and 
ozone, or whatever chemical compound it may 
be that I breathed in my earlier years. It is so 
refreshing to feel that you are breathing clean, 
pure, and invigorating air. Some of this air will 
be a little more exhilarating in cool weather, but 


AGAIN AROUND THE WORLD 


215 


it is good anywhere. I enjoy every minute at 
sea. The infinite charm of the ocean appeals to 
me—I cannot understand any one’s thinking 
it monotonous. 

When I last went through the Panama Canal, 
I wrote with great enthusiasm about the credit 
due the American engineers for having built it, 
and who continue to be influential in the Canal 
Zone. I have met hundreds of people who are 
in a position to know, and no breath of scandal 
has ever been heard against the management 
of the Canal, of which every American has the 
right to be proud. The Laconia went through 
the Canal like clockwork, and I have some ex¬ 
cellent photographs, taken from an aeroplane, 
which have been kindly given to me by Major 
Walsh, of the United States Army. 

Our party are all old travelers, congenial, and 
interesting; and we can anticipate reasonably 
a most pleasant and satisfactory voyage. We 
are all having a most pleasant time, and looking 
forward eagerly to seeing the Orient in the near 
future. 


XXI 

Cruise Continued 


December 13, 1922. 

FR commander, Capt. F. G. 
Brown, is a most interesting 
man, having served through 
the Great War from August 
2, 1914. 

He was in charge of the 
for’ard turret that fired the 
first guns at the Dardan¬ 
elles. Shortly thereafter he 
was promoted to acting commander of the Prince 
Edward , and later was made full commander of 
the same vessel. He served all through the 
Gallipoli campaign, and from March, 1918, to 
the termination of the war, was Commodore of 
Convoys, successfully convoying one hundred 
and ninety-eight ships without a loss. He was 
commended by his admiral, and by the French 
Commander-in-Chief. He has given us many 
reminiscences, but, like most naval officers, is 
216 






CRUISE CONTINUED 


217 


exceedingly modest and inclined to be reticent. 

I was gratified to learn that our captain’s 
opinion of the Turks not only coincides with my 
own, but it is in accord with the opinion of every 
British Army and Naval Officer whom I have 
met, and who served against the Turks. 

Captain Brown relates an interesting anec¬ 
dote: The British were landing large bodies 
of troops, and the Turkish Commander sent a 
notice that he would shell the landing place but 
for the proximity of a hospital. He stated he 
would give the British forty-eight hours to re¬ 
move the hospital, and stated further that, being 
familiar with the ground, he realized that it 
would be difficult to remove the hospital so far 
away as to take it entirely out of reach of the 
shell fire, but that the Turks would be careful 
to prevent, as far as possible, any of the shells 
reaching the hospital. 

The Captain’s story brings to mind a similar 
one told me by a British Colonel: During the 
early stages of the Gallipoli campaign, some of 
the Australian troops suffered greatly through 
lack of water. Their necessities were such that 
the troops would take chances during the night 
on going to a brook that was within easy reach 


218 


MY DITTY BAG 


of the Turkish guns and fill their vessels with 
water. Their thirst was so great that they ex¬ 
tended their operations towards daylight, and 
were seen by the Turks; whereupon one of the 
Turkish commanding officers came out and 
waved his hands and indicated that they could 
get all the water they wanted, without fear of 
molestation, until adequate supplies of water 
could be brought to the British Front. 

If any of my readers are interested in this 
subject, I commend to their attention an article 
by Major General Townsend in the December 
number of Asia . 

I have no desire to magnify the virtues of the 
Turks. In a race with cultured Bostonians, or 
the Women’s Club of Main Street, they would 
be outclassed, but in a free-for-all with the 
Greeks, Bulgarians, Armenians and Levantine 
Jews, the Turks would win in a canter. 

The Turks now demand Courts of their own. 
While I have not read the Koran for many 
years, my recollection is that this authority is 
quite lenient about the payment of debts to an 
infidel. The Koran is, I understand, the basis 
for Turkish law, and if the French, through their 
lack of sportsmanship, lose some of the money 


CRUISE CONTINUED 


219 


the Turks owe them, I shall not have any great 
regret. 

In my opinion the time has gone by when one 
nation can expect to override the laws of re¬ 
ligion and politics of another without its con¬ 
sent. Our late President was emphatic as to the 
rights of weaker nations to govern themselves, 
and I believe that the Turks have the same right 
to run their own country that we have to run 
ours. 

It is to the credit of the Turks that for sev¬ 
eral centuries, when the Catholics were burning 
and torturing heretics, and Claverhouse was 
chasing the Covenanters on horseback with 
hounds, and the good Presbyterians murdered 
Archbishop Laud in a brutal manner, and Ser- 
vetus was burned at the stake for his religious 
beliefs, that the Turks were the most tolerant 
nation that ruled over subject peoples, and the 
Greeks, Armenians, Syrians, and Copts were 
practically treated as well by the Turks as their 
own people were. Anyway, the Turks as indi¬ 
viduals have always been brave and honest, and 
these are commendable virtues. 

From an old chart I brought with me I notice 
that today we crossed where I did forty years 


220 


MY DITTY BAG 


ago last September, bound from Victoria 
around Cape Horn. Much water has passed 
through the mill during the intervening period, 
and I am certainly making this voyage under 
different conditions than I ever anticipated. 
There have been many changes during the past 
forty years, but I find the same old familiar 
Pacific swell, and the same familiar fresh North¬ 
east Trades. I think that probably the ocean 
has been the same for hundreds of thousands of 
years, and I contrast this with the changing 
shores. 

I have been trying to learn to play Mah 
Jong, which is a very old Chinese game. It 
was first taken up by the English clubs in China, 
and with certain modifications has become quite 
popular. The game was given me by one of my 
friends, and is quite expensive, partly owing to 
the outfit required. Some Mah Jong sets, I 
understand, are worth one or two thousand dol¬ 
lars, mainly on account of the beautiful lac¬ 
quered and brass-bound box in which the coun¬ 
ters are kept. The game requires skill, and is 
quite interesting. It is a very popular gambling 
game in China. As might be expected in a game 
invented by the most patient people in the world, 


CRUISE CONTINUED 


221 


who are much addicted to form and ceremony, 
the rules are necessarily technical, and a rapid- 
fire American is inclined to eliminate a good deal 
of the “mumbo-jumbo” business, and get down 
to the real merits of the game. I will report 
later more fully my opinion on this subject. At 
present I can only say that it is a good game 
for the idle rich, and more particularly for 
charming ladies who have pretty hands, which 
they have frequent opportunity to display, and 
besides, ladies find the Oriental names of the 
tiles appeal to them. They learn various and 
sundry counts and can recite many rules, and 
the technique is attractive, and these combina¬ 
tions are frequently mistaken for real skill. 

We have a large number of widows among our 
passengers—divided into grass, sod, and clover 
varieties: the latter being those whose husbands 
are at home working for them. 


XXII 

Japan and the Japanese 

December 20, 1922. 
HE day we left Honolulu I 
received a ninety-two-word 
wireless message from one 
of our Japanese customers, 
the concluding paragraph 
reading, “Being on tiptoe in 
expectation to meet you 
again.” The wireless rate 
must have been about 
seventy-five cents per word, and the message 
was filled with expressions of pleasure at the 
honor of meeting us again. 

I had met Mr. Harada, the sender of this mes¬ 
sage, once or twice in Pittsburgh, and my recol¬ 
lection is that I said, “How do you do?” asked 
him to take a seat, offered him a Ginita cigar, 
and indicated that I was a very busy man; and 
I don’t think our interview lasted more than five 
minutes. 



222 




JAPAN AND THE JAPANESE 223 

Mr. Harada came from Osaka to meet us at 
Yokohama on our arrvial, bringing with him 
three of his associates, to show us proper defer¬ 
ence. During our entire stay he and his friends 
did everything that was possible to give us a 
good time, constantly showing us the most cour¬ 
teous attention, and the only reason that they 
did not do more for us than they did was be¬ 
cause we would not permit it. Mr. Robinson 
has described the very excellent dinner which 
they gave us. They gave me a business lunch¬ 
eon also of ten courses, and invited the princi¬ 
pal glass buyers in Japan to be present. I was 
nominally the host, and gave away the lacquer 
boxes and bowls, with the decorator’s autograph 
on them, and other presents, and when I at¬ 
tempted to pay for them I was told that this 
was contrary to Japanese custom. We met and 
enjoyed the company of three genuine Japanese 
gentlemen, and the younger brother of Mr. Iwai, 
one of our hosts, attended the same school— 
Dummer Academy, Byfield, that I attended 
when I was a boy. He is now at Cambridge 
University. 

There is a great contrast between the way 
in which we receive Japanese in the United 


224 


MY DITTY BAG 


States and the way in which they receive Amer¬ 
ican visitors in Japan. I have resolved that in 
the future I shall not be so much outdone in 
courtesy as I have been in the past; and while 
I am writing on the subject of courtesy, I would 
observe that if I am ever in the United States 
Congress, I will propose an act compelling pro¬ 
spective globe tourists from the United States 
to take an elementary course in courtesy and 
how to conduct themselves when in foreign 
countries. 

Mr. Hara, one of the wealthy Japanese, threw 
open his beautiful grounds and gardens for the 
benefit of our party. One enterprising Amer¬ 
ican went up to the front door and pulled it 
ajar, in order to see what was going on inside. 
Having in mind the feminine equality and lib¬ 
erty given to the fair sex, a charming young 
damsel of about thirty did not propose to be out¬ 
done in investigating the homes of the Japanese, 
so she crawled a few feet on her hands and 
knees over the veranda and slid aside one of the 
French windows, so as to get a better view of 
the interior of the house. There were very 
few flowers in bloom, but some of the distin¬ 
guished representatives of the United States 


JAPAN AND THE JAPANESE 225 

seemed to think that these flowers were for their 
particular benefit, so they plucked them from 
the bushes and generously distributed them. 

The belief of many of the tourists seemed 
to be that foreign countries were all developed 
for their special edification, and as Japanese 
read newspapers quite generally, I think I should 
like to have read some of the criticisms on the 
multi-millionaire Americans and the lesser rich 
whose type was inferentially representative of 
our country. One loud-mouthed hustler from 
Chicago went into one of the leading stores 
when I was there and yelled to the proprietor 
as though he were talking to a newsboy. The 
shop referred to has branches in London and 
New York, and the proprietor spoke three lan¬ 
guages quite fluently. I have the impression 
that he is a university man. It is superfluous to 
say that I do not mean to cast any reflections 
on the large majority of our fellow passengers. 

So much has been written about Japan by so 
many competent authorities that I am content 
merely to record my impressions. I have trav¬ 
eled a great deal and my experience is enough to 
justify my emphatically stating that the Japan¬ 
ese are independent, courteous, sensitive, and 


226 


MY DITTY BAG 


progressive. I do not know of any other nation 
in the world with fifty million people so homo- 
geneous, united and patriotic as are the Japan¬ 
ese. Whether we like it or not, we must recog¬ 
nize these people in the future. 

I did not happen to see a beggar in the five 
large cities of Japan that I visited, although 
there were a few seen by some of our fellow 
passengers. I saw a bright little boy carried 
on his mother’s back and I offered the mother 
a quarter for the child. She bowed beautifully 
and courteously but declined my offer. This 
was in one of the large department stores. I 
tried the same experiment three times more and 
in each case met the same courteous declination. 
I gave a small sum to the attendant at one of the 
temples. Promptly he turned it over to the 
coolie who put on our slippers. I did not find 
any professional beggars or hear any cries for 
“baksheesh,” and was not annoyed by any re¬ 
quests for money as is so common in Europe 
and Western Asia. 

The largest department store in Tokio, which 
the Japanese are very proud of, gave us quite an 
elaborate reception, including an interesting tea 
ceremony. We arrived at the store about an 


JAPAN AND THE JAPANESE 


227 


hour ahead of our party. Among those who 
received us was a Mr. Takayanagi, one of the 
leading stockholders, and a man of about sev¬ 
enty-five years of age. He was extremely courte¬ 
ous, and we had a very pleasant and interesting 
conversation. He told me that he had reviewed 
for Charles Scribner’s Sons one 'of Lafcadio 
Hearn’s books, and had written a book himself, 
which was published by the same firm. He had 
been frequently in New York and London, and 
had traveled extensively over Europe. I asked 
him whether it was not rather unusual for a 
Japanese business man to be interested in books 
to the extent of being an author. He smiled 
and said, “Your Mr. Carnegie set me this ex¬ 
ample.” When I complimented him on the won¬ 
derful progress that Japan had made since I 
was here last, he said with an air of pride that 
he believed and hoped that Japan would make 
much relative progress during the next forty 
years. 

I did not know that cremation is practiced in 
Japan to the extent that it is. In the large cities 
about seventy-five per cent of the dead are cre¬ 
mated. This method is approved of by the 
Buddhists but frowned upon by the more ortho- 


228 


MY DITTY BAG 


dox Shintos. The government encourages cre¬ 
mation, and in some cities I understand it is 
compulsory. 

In the large railway stations I noticed three 
or four blackboards and found that these are 
provided for the convenience of passengers, their 
purpose being to furnish an opportunity to con¬ 
vey messages. Some of these were translated 
for my benefit. One stated that the train from 
Tokio being two hours late, the writer had gone 
to a certain office building where he could be 
found when his friend arrived. Several mes¬ 
sages indicated where the writers could be found 
later, and one writer stated that he was unable 
to be present as arranged. The board is cleared 
every four hours. 

We were fortunate in being in Japan at the 
beginning of the New Year, which is practically 
a week’s holiday. I rode in a ricksha from the 
steamer to the hotel. There was a very cold 
wind blowing, and we were more protected by 
going through many of the streets of the poorer 
quarter. It was surprising to see how many 
Japanese flags were displayed from the houses 
and small stores. I do not believe there is an¬ 
other large city in the world where the national 


JAPAN AND THE JAPANESE 229 

holiday would be celebrated so generally. It was 
very evident that the Japanese were proud of 
their flag. I should say that about one-third of 
the number of Sewickleyans would show our flag 
on the Fourth of July, compared with the num¬ 
ber of people in Yokohama who so freely and 
proudly showed their colors. In several of the 
parks we saw large cannons, captured from the 
Russians, surrounded by the usual iron railing 
as is common in many countries, but in the same 
enclosure was a large modern Japanese gun with 
the carriage, shells, wagon and complete equip¬ 
ment, and printed posters giving a full descrip¬ 
tion of how the cannon was to be used and 
country visitors and city boys read them atten¬ 
tively. This seemed to me to be a very good 
way to arouse pride and patriotic duty among 
the people. 

So far as I could learn it was expected that 
the severe liquidation in business had reached 
its height and was now subsiding, and while 
there was some improvement in business, it was 
indicated that no decided improvement was 
looked for until the last half of this year. Osaka 
is the leading manufacturing city of Japan and 
is frequently referred to as a second Pittsburgh. 


230 


MY DITTY BAG 


I can say with confidence that I can never tell 
how much of an English conversation is under¬ 
stood by a Japanese. They are somewhat re¬ 
luctant about using English, but as a Chinese 
would say, “they savee plentee.” Two of our 
Japanese friends made some very excellent 
speeches at the dinner we attended. I cannot 
understand our prejudice against the Japanese, 
and our fear of a war with Japan. We buy 
eighty per cent of the Japanese silk exported; 
we are Japan’s best customer, our fleet is much 
more powerful, our resources incomparably su¬ 
perior, our population much greater; we are 
separated by thousands of miles of ocean. What 
could Japan expect to gain by a war with us? 
Self-interest alone would prompt her to cultivate 
cordial relations with the United States, but I 
am confident that the Japanese wish to be 
friendly with us, and that they realize that their 
powerful neighbors on the west, Russia and 
China, may be their real enemies, but Japan has 
more to gain by peace and commercial devel¬ 
opment than from war. 

I am an admirer of the Japanese, they have 
kept their treaty obligations under trying con¬ 
ditions, they are brave, courteous and progress- 


JAPAN AND THE JAPANESE 231 

ive, they have been unduly and unfavorably 
criticized. 

One common deprecatory statement fre¬ 
quently made is that the Japanese lack com¬ 
mercial honor. For many centuries the classes 
in Japan were nobles—soldiers, farmers, fisher¬ 
men, artisans, merchants, pariahs, their relative 
importance being indicated in the order named. 
The traders were looked down upon, and there 
was no inducement to cultivate or extend com¬ 
mercial relations until quite recently. The Jap¬ 
anese have felt the reproach on their honesty, 
and are doing all that they can to improve their 
reputation. 

As evidencing the alleged dishonesty of the 
Japanese, it has been frequently stated that they 
were compelled to employ Chinese cashiers. 
The truth is that the Chinese are competent, 
honest, and reliable, and economical to employ, 
but for many years the large European and 
American firms also have employed Chinese 
compradors and shroffs to handle their money 
and pay local bills. The number of Chinese 
employed by the Japanese firms is steadily de¬ 
creasing. On this subject it seems fair to say 
that the Pittsburgh Plate Glass Company dur- 


2 32 


MY DITTY BAG 


ing the past five years has sold several million 
dollars’ worth of glass in Japan and we have 
never lost a dollar or had a claim made upon 
us. 


XXIII 

Forty Years After 



January 21, 1923. 

W .JE have just left Japan and 
China, and I am recording a 
-5— brief summary of my impres- 
1 sions of these countries after 
an absence of forty years. 

During the period referred 
to above, Japan has become 
one of the important civilized 
countries of the world. I 
could see very little change in the Chinese so far 
as I had the opportunity of judging. I am cred¬ 
ibly informed that the women no longer compress 
their feet, and I think there are many edu¬ 
cated and influential Chinese, presumably trying 
to develop their country, but I got the impres¬ 
sion that most of these gentlemen are endeavor¬ 
ing to increase their own power and prestige. 
The Chinese, however, remain unchanged. The 
same unsanitary conditions are found in the 
inner city of Shanghai that existed forty years 
233 


234 


MY DITTY BAG 


ago; the same smells, the same slops, the same 
overcrowding, and that awful struggle for exist¬ 
ence are everywhere in evidence. In Hongkong 
the Sikh policemen and the Chinese policemen 
thrash and kick the coolies and ricksha-men as 
they did forty years ago. With the possible 
exception of India, with which country I am 
entirely unacquainted, I doubt if there is another 
race of people in the whole world which would 
stand being treated as the Chinese are by the 
foreigners. In a general way there are many 
beggars in China, few, if any, in Japan. The 
improvements made by Japan during the last 
twenty years in streets, docks, etc., compare 
favorably with any similar improvements in any 
part of the world. Coming down Formosa Chan¬ 
nel I thought there were as many Chinese junks 
as there were in my day, but there were not as 
many Chinese steamers at any port where we 
stopped. Most of the English and Americans, 
to my mind, are prone to praise the Chinese, 
and criticize harshly the Japanese and give them 
as little credit as is possible. I think the reason 
is quite obvious, as there is no doubt but that 
the Japanese are becoming great commercial 
rivals of the British and the Americans, and 


FORTY YEARS AFTER 


235 


many of the encomiums bestowed upon the Chi¬ 
nese are for their ability as servants. 

I have heard many prominent educators say 
that the Chinese are better scholars than the 
Japanese. This may be so, though I think that 
the subservience of the Chinese, compared with 
the independence of the Japanese, influences the 
judgment of most Americans. Anyway, I do 
not know of any other people who have made 
the same progress with their army, navy, gov¬ 
ernment control and commercial enterprises, 
and who control the masses as well and preserve 
the national spirit as effectively as the Jap¬ 
anese. 

For many years I have been predicting that 
a great man would be born in China, who would 
upbuild a great empire and unify a great nation, 
and I still believe that my prediction will be 
verified, although the present outlook is dis¬ 
couraging. General apathy, lack of sympathy 
between different provinces, not having a 
spoken language in common, and the individual 
ambitions and selfishness of the Chinese leaders 
all militate against any early fulfillment of my 
prophecy. The world has frequently produced 
a great leader when one was needed, but at 


236 


MY DITTY BAG 


present the great god Billiken should occupy 
the most prominent place in every Chinese joss 
house. The Chinese have a wonderful faculty 
for patient endurance, and for boycotting. 

We had a very interesting visit at Formosa, 
or Taipeh, as the Japanese now call their island. 
As was evident in Taihoku, the capital of Tai¬ 
peh, and in several cities in Japan, the Japa¬ 
nese have been so strongly influenced and 
impressed by German methods that several com¬ 
missions have been appointed by the Japanese 
Government to carefully investigate. The new 
municipal building at Taihoku would compare 
favorably with any commercial capital of sim¬ 
ilar importance. The railway from Keelung to 
Taihoku has good equipment, and apparently 
is well operated. The people are very cour¬ 
teous, and so far as I could see were as well 
satisfied and contented as any people in the 
world. 

Let me relate a personal incident, illustrating 
Japanese independence: We had a Japanese 
guide, who was very attentive and assisted us 
in shopping, changing our money for us out of 
his own pocket, and was very painstaking in 
endeavoring to carry out the wishes of our 


FORTY YEARS AFTER 


237 


party, even when we wanted a small toy doll. 
When we arrived back at the station after hav¬ 
ing been three or four hours in his company I 
offered him a dollar, as is quite customary. With 
great courtesy he declined to take any gratuity, 
saying that he was a Japanese student, and that 
he was only too pleased to give his time in show¬ 
ing his distinguished visitors anything of inter¬ 
est that there was in Taihoku. 

We went to one of the large camphor fac¬ 
tories, and the operation was very interesting. 
The Monopoly Bureau of the Formosan Gov¬ 
ernment controls the monopoly of camphor, opi¬ 
um, salt and tobacco on the island. Opium is 
chiefly imported from India in a raw condition, 
and is prepared into paste of different grades in 
the factory owned by the Bureau. Camphor and 
camphor oil in the crude state are brought down 
from the hills and refined in the factory. Ac¬ 
cording to the published statistics the total con¬ 
sumption of camphor in the whole world is 
twelve million pounds, nine million pounds of 
which are produced in Taipeh, about six million 
pounds being used in the manufacture of cellu¬ 
loid. 

The greatest change in Hongkong that I saw 


238 


MY DITTY BAG 


was due to the increase in population; and one 
of the chief improvements that I noticed was the 
roads. I do not know of any better roads in 
the world. In many places it was necessary to 
blast through solid rock. I am told that Hong¬ 
kong is a flourishing Colony, and sends home to 
the British Government about one million 
pounds per year, but the higher authorities were 
persuaded to use a large amount of money for 
new roads. The best real estate is worth from 
six thousand to eight thousand dollars per foot 
front, and room to expand is needed. 

One of the greatest surprises I have had this 
trip was in finding the best hotel rooms in the 
world in the new hotel at Repulse Bay, at Hong¬ 
kong. I except royal suites and state apart¬ 
ments. The rooms were large, with high ceil¬ 
ings, tastefully furnished, and better arranged 
than any other hotel with which I am ac¬ 
quainted. On entering one of these standard 
rooms, you find on one side of the entrance ward¬ 
robes for ladies and on the other side ward¬ 
robes for gentlemen, with proper racks for 
trunks, etc., thermos bottles on one of the 
smaller tables, and excellent reading lights over 
the bed. The bathroom has large windows for 


FORTY YEARS AFTER 


239 


ventilation, is nearly as large as any stateroom 
on the Laconia, and is equipped with all the 
latest sanitary requirements that would be ex¬ 
pected in any bathroom. At the other end of 
the room was a smaller room, in which there was 
a lounge and a table for reading, with large 
French windows for ventilation, and with a de¬ 
lightful outlook. The regular price for one of 
these rooms is sixteen Mexican dollars per day, 
or about nine dollars in our money. I have 
stayed at every large hotel in Atlantic City, 
including the old Rudolph, but I want to say 
that I never before had such a good room as I 
saw at Repulse Bay Hotel, and I never saw one 
that was as large and comfortable for anything 
like the money I should have had to pay in 
Hongkong. 

We were all very much disappointed at our 
inability to visit Canton, but there was a small 
revolution at that point. Firing was reported 
in the streets, and we were advised that it was 
strongly against the wish of the American Con¬ 
sul that our party should go there. 

We expect to arrive at Manila tomorrow, and 
for the next thirty days our weather report will 
in all probability be, “warm and moist.” 



XXIV 


Filipinos and Prohibition 

January 24, 1923. 

M UCH to my surprise and horror, I found 
there was no attempt made to enforce 
the Eighteenth Amendment in the 
Philippines, notwithstanding the American flag 
flies over our eastern insular possessions. I can¬ 
not understand how some of the ardent prohibi¬ 
tionists, with their firm determination to reform 
the whole world, overlooked the Philippines. I 
believe that there was some provision made in 
the so-called Jones Act, leaving it to the Fili¬ 
pinos to pass their own laws regarding local 

240 






FILIPINOS AND PROHIBITION 


241 


issues. I heard, however, that many Americans 
in the East think that Jones was a real states¬ 
man. 

Those of my friends who are familiar with my 
preference for retiring early, will be surprised to 
know that I stayed up until after two o’clock in 
the morning investigating the Manila cabarets, 
which are great attractions to the visitors. The 
finest and largest cabaret is the Santa Anna. Here 
the large dancing hall was divided by a small rail 
partition, about two feet high, separating the 
Europeans from the natives—all people, how¬ 
ever, being free and equal so far as enjoying the 
excellent music was concerned. Most of the life 
and the best dancing seemed to be on the Fili¬ 
pino side of the fence. Recognizing the prepon¬ 
derance of bachelors and unattached men in 
Manila, the management provide fifteen or 
twenty girls who would dance with any person 
upon payment of twenty centavos, or ten cents 
in our own money. These girls were very good 
dancers, dressed modestly, and conducted them¬ 
selves with propriety, but were careful to col¬ 
lect the money after each dance. Their duen¬ 
nas were sitting on the side lines—not so much 
for chaperonage, but to make sure the girls took 


242 


MY DITTY BAG 


home all the money they received. The second 
cabaret was devoted entirely to the exclusive 
use of the Filipinos, although I did not under¬ 
stand that Europeans were barred. Dancing is 
evidently very popular, and competent judges 
stated that the music was good at all the caba¬ 
rets. The other cabaret was chiefly intended 
for the use of soldiers and sailors. A petty 
officer and two assistants were detailed to en¬ 
force order if necessary. The boys all seemed 
to be having a very good time. Notwithstand¬ 
ing that there was a bar in the building, and 
good liquors obtainable at reasonable prices, I 
did not see any one in any of the cabarets under 
the influence of liquor. 

As to the value of the Philippines and their 
probable future, I heard so many different 
opinions that I was unable to come to any satis¬ 
factory conclusion. I have always thought that 
these Islands one day would make more trouble 
than they are worth. In view of the expressed 
and ample promises that we have made, I do 
not see how we can indefinitely withhold inde¬ 
pendence, as a century might elapse before the 
Filipinos would become educated up to the re¬ 
quired American standard. 


FILIPINOS AND PROHIBITION 243 

Obviously I am not qualified by a visit of 
forty hours to analyze competently the eco¬ 
nomic, religious or political conditions in the 
Philippines. My friend, Bishop Mitchell, to 
whom I reported my satisfactory investigation 
of the cabarets, and emphasized their orderly 
condition, notwithstanding the moderate use of 
liquor, asked me if I visited the missionaries 
and familiarized myself with their excellent 
work. As to the missionaries—the deponent 
sayeth naught. I did visit one old church, that 
had a remarkable organ—the pipes being all 
made of bamboo, and the tone was pronounced 
very sweet by good judges of music. 

Before reaching Batavia, I gave an address on 
Java and the Eastern Islands to a select gather¬ 
ing of our fellow passengers. My friends were 
kind and appreciative, and all remained until I 
finished. I talked rapidly for fifteen minutes, 
and if I had had a competent stenographer 
present I might have recorded quite a long letter 
on Java, but I fear that I am too selfish to 
devote much time to letter writing, and I do not 
write as readily as I did in my younger days. 

Java, like China, seemed to me to have 
changed comparatively little in the past forty 


244 


MY DITTY BAG 


years. The breakwater at Batavia, or rather 
at Tanjong Priok, the port, had been greatly 
improved, and some new and imposing buildings 
have been erected; and Batavia is much more 
healthy than it was, due to improved sanitary 
methods. 

We greatly enjoyed our visit to the famous 
botanical gardens at Buitenzorg. I was very 
sorry that my friend Elliott was not with 
us, to explain graphically and call our atten¬ 
tion to the wonderful flowers, plants, trees and 
vines that we saw. As a layman I could admire 
and appreciate the orchids and the fine rare 
trees, but I am not sufficiently capable as a 
botanist to attempt a full description, and I 
have what I suppose may be a common reluc¬ 
tance to attempt to describe one of the great 
and well-known gardens of the world, about 
which many authors have written books, arti¬ 
cles and pamphlets. I could never write of the 
majestic Andes, the beautiful Riviera, the Bay 
of Naples, and I shall not attempt any descrip¬ 
tion of the Taj Mahal. Too many eyes and 
too many appreciative observers before me have 
made attempts to do justice to great subjects 
—too many have fallen far short in their effort. 


FILIPINOS AND PROHIBITION 245 

The Museum at Batavia contains the finest 
collection of the kind in the world—one room 
filled with Buddhas, centuries old, but most of 
them in an excellent state of preservation; a 
wonderful exhibit of native art and craft—weap¬ 
ons, ornaments, and idols from the Far East; 
fine samples of native Batik work, and hundreds 
of Malay crisses, the common weapon of the 
Malay. One diamond in the hilt of the criss of a 
deceased Sultan of Lombok was valued at sixty 
thousand guilders—twenty-four thousand dol¬ 
lars—and many of the crisses of bygone years 
were so richly studded with jewels as to be 
almost priceless. 

The most perceptible change that I saw in 
the Javanese was the increase in athletic sports. 
Frequently the boys were seen playing football 
on the school campus. The exercise seemed vio¬ 
lent in the excessive humidity, but the boys 
seemed to enjoy their sport as much as the boys 
do in a colder climate. 

Apparently the inhabitants of Java are un¬ 
usually happy and contented. They seem quite 
satisfied to live their own lives, to continue 
their own customs. Their interests are narrow, 
mostly confined to their own village or city, and 


246 


MY DITTY BAG 


their own community means more to them than 
the outside world. An intelligent Dutch mer¬ 
chant told me that two-thirds of the inhabitants 
of Java never heard of the great World War, 
and those who had heard of it cared little about 
it. 

The Dutch are the most successful nation in 
the world in governing colonies. It is a great 
feat for a little nation like Holland to control 
and manage one hundred million people of alien 
races on the other side of the globe. On this 
subject I could write a chapter. 

After the Bishop’s hint, I did devote a little 
time to the spiritual status of the Javanese. 
The Dutch have never attempted to interfere 
with the religion of their subject nations, and 
have rather discouraged missionaries. Java con¬ 
tains large and remarkable ruins of old Buddhist 
temples, and twelve hundred years ago Bud¬ 
dhism flourished and was universally believed in. 
Later Brahmanism was adopted by the people 
quite generally, and four or five hundred years 
ago Mohammedanism drove out the earlier 
faiths of the people. They have run the gamut 
of all Oriental religions of importance, and seem 
to have become apathetic and “fed-up” on all 


FILIPINOS AND PROHIBITION 


247 


religions. Even the Salvation Army gets few 
recruits. The natives make little difference be¬ 
tween Sundays and week days. I saw very few 
new mosques, temples or churches, and very 
few worshipers at any time. Crimes of vio¬ 
lence are unknown—the people are temperate 
and free from criminal instincts, but the Dutch 
punish offenders severely, although justly. 
Maybe Java is a promising field for mission¬ 
aries, but I think not. 


XXV 


The Hindus 

As They Seem to an Ordinary Traveler 

February 10, 1923. 

[E Victoria Memorial at 
Calcutta is one of the 
finest, if not the finest, 
building that I have ever 
seen. In my opinion its 
merits have never been 
justly recognized. The 
British are poor advertis¬ 
ers, but so far as I am able 
to judge good architecture, the Memorial Build¬ 
ing is entitled to great praise. Our guide said 
that it was the Taj Mahal of Calcutta, and that 
when we saw the real Taj Mahal we would for¬ 
get the Memorial; if so the Taj Mahal will even 
exceed our expectations. 

Our time was limited at Calcutta, but we saw 
the Jain Temple, which was designed by an 
Italian architect, with some Indian innovations. 

248 







THE HINDUS 


249 


It is more beautiful than most of the temples I 
have seen, and has more fine mosaic work, with 
the usual temple ornaments of gold, silver and 
jewels. There were quite a number of pillars 
decorated with colored pot metal glass cut in 
small pieces, interspersed with pieces of shock 
mirrors about a half inch in width and two and 
one-half inches in length. At home this would 
cost about forty cents per square foot com¬ 
pleted, and there was a marked contrast, as is 
usual in India, between this tawdry decoration 
and the expensive jewels and silver work. 

The donor of the Jain Temple was some¬ 
body Dass Bahudur—a rich Hindu merchant, 
and the cost must have been great. We were 
invited to visit the house of this Bahudur and 
see his large and fine collection of jewels. We 
climbed three flights of stairs, the walls were 
as dirty and unpainted as you would find in a 
Bleeker Street tenement, the blinds were old, 
the surroundings were squalid, and yet in a 
room on the fourth floor we found a most mag¬ 
nificent collection of jewels. Various small 
members of the Dass family stared at us through 
the blinds with a mild curiosity, but they had 
the same unhappy appearance that their poorer 


250 


MY DITTY BAG 


brethren had—none of the light-hearted cheer¬ 
fulness that we saw in Hawaii, Japan and 
Manila. Why a multi-millionaire should live in 
such surroundings and apparently enjoy them 
is a mystery to me. The Hindus seem insen¬ 
sible to what we consider the fitness of things, 
and apparently delight in striking contrasts and 
peculiar incongruities. 

In the Botanical Gardens we saw the great 
banyan tree, covering an acre of ground. The 
limbs put forth tendrils, which are protected by 
hollow bamboo tubes until they reach the 
ground, when they root, and the main tree con¬ 
tinues to grow and expand. 

It is hardly worth while to record the well- 
known objects of interest in Calcutta that we 
saw. We proceeded quite promptly on our two 
days’ trip to Benares, which was the most com¬ 
fortable railroad journey of four hundred miles 
that I have ever made. Our cars were new, 
and Mr. Robinson and I had one compartment, 
which had four windows and two doors on each 
side, so that we had a fine view of the country 
through which we passed. The berths were 
about eight inches wider than those in our Pull¬ 
man cars. There was a comfortable leather 


THE HINDUS 


251 


upholstered chair at the foot of each berth, two 
large electric fans for comfort and to keep the 
mosquitoes away, and six fine electric lights by 
which we could read easily. The windows had 
blinds which could have been easily handled by 
a child of ten years, and it was unnecessary to 
send for a porter and jack screw to open the 
windows. The roofs of the cars had been cooled 
by water sent through a hose and liberally used 
on the tops of the cars. I thought of the many 
hours I have spent on the superheated cars in 
the summer between Pittsburgh and Sewickley, 
and if I ever leave a large amount of money 
to charity, I will make a liberal bequest to the 
Pennsylvania Railroad to cool their suburban 
cars in a similar way. Our toilet room was 
about twice the size of that furnished by the 
Pullman Company, and we had a covered bath¬ 
tub and plenty of cool running water. Our 
towels were twenty-four inches by thirty-six 
inches, and there was an ample supply. A 
framed map under glass enabled us to see where 
we were and where we were going. The size 
of our compartment outside of the toilet room 
was six feet wide by twelve and one-half feet 
long. A stationary table was between our two 


252 


MY DITTY BAG 


berths, with a good mirror over the table. The 
toilet room was all wainscoted with tiles, and 
above the wainscot was painted a fine white 
ivory tint, with a glossy cream surface. 

If our experience is a fair sample of the com¬ 
fort of traveling on railroads in India, visitors 
have nothing to fear. When our government 
takes over the railroads I shall recommend that 
a Congressional Committee make a careful in¬ 
spection of the East Indian Railroads. The 
cost of our compartment was about the same 
as we pay for a drawing room from Pittsburgh 
to New York. 

One of our personal conductors, who is a very 
well-informed man, makes the statement that 
Benares is the oldest city in the world having 
the same race of people, and I doubt if the 
inhabitants have changed materially, and their 
prominent characteristics are likely to be the 
same five thousand years hence. 

For many years I have felt that India was one 
of the last places in the world I cared to visit, 
and I had little admiration for the Hindus. 
Closer acquaintance has fully confirmed my ori¬ 
ginal impressions. The many colored costumes 
of the people, the many temples and mosques 


THE HINDUS 


253 


on the banks of the Ganges, and the constantly 
changing crowds are spectacles that are well 
worth seeing. The bathing ghats should be seen 
once, but they arouse feelings of disgust when 
witnessed by a civilized person. The burning 
ghats are within a few feet of the bathers on 
either side, little attention being paid to the 
burning bodies by the unsympathetic Hindus. 
Some of the richer natives came to the baths 
in sedan chairs, and were screened somewhat 
when performing their ablutions. The sewers 
of Benares empty into the river at frequent 
intervals, and, so far as I could judge, it was 
considered good etiquette to leave fourteen 
inches vacant space on each side of the sewer. 
Beyond this limit the religious natives bathed 
in the usual manner, cleaning their teeth and 
rinsing their mouths repeatedly with the sacred 
water. A dead cow floating past received no 
attention whatever, and while we were there 
the dead body of a man was thrown into the 
river a few feet from the bathers. We were 
informed that all children under six years of 
age are thrown into the river; and all those who 
die of contagious disease, those who are too 
poor to pay for proper burning, and a certain 


254 


MY DITTY BAG 


sect, the Sennasees, throw their bodies into the 
river irrespective of age or condition. 

Each Hindu, after his last hair-cut, leaves a 
lock of long hair on the back of his head, so 
that god number 547 can readily yank him to 
the Elysian fields. When the body is burned 
the hair naturally burns first, and I wondered 
what its practical utility could be, but I can¬ 
not comprehend Hindu religious logic. How¬ 
ever, as Steinmetz says, “Faith is not scientific.” 
Now an Indian scalp might be practical. 

My faith in the germ theory of disease was 
somewhat shattered. I made inquiries of three 
doctors as to how such a large number of people 
can keep up this bath practice for many years. 
One doctor said that the hot sun killed many 
of the microbes, and was the best purifier known. 
Another said the natives had become compara¬ 
tively immune to typhoid and cholera. The 
third doctor stated it was supposed that there 
was some strong disinfectant in the river. Our 
Mohammedan guide gave what seemed to me the 
most rational explanation. He said, “These peo¬ 
ple are like vultures, they can eat and drink any¬ 
thing.” Benares is the most sacred, and, in many 
respects, the most typical of the Indian cities, 


THE HINDUS 


255 


and I was intensely interested in what I saw 
there, but my interest was mingled with a pro¬ 
found contempt for the Hindus. The manager 
of the hotel told me that a certain native in 
Benares was educated in England, and was at 
Cambridge University for three years. Almost 
immediately upon returning to the Holy City 
he sought the river, and getting a good location 
close to a sewer, proceeded to perform the usual 
devotions with an ardor that indicated his un¬ 
broken faith in his traditional belief. What 
you can expect to do with millions of such 
ignorant and superstitious people I do not know. 

It is estimated that there are five millions of 
regular beggars in India, and about the same 
number of people who are constantly making 
pilgrimages to the various shrines. When you 
consider the time wasted in bathing and devo¬ 
tions, the economic loss is evident. A so-called 
Monkey Temple had many worshipers. Ad¬ 
joining the temple is a large open tank filled 
with dirty running water, in which the Hindus 
take holy baths and rinse out their mouths— 
and the monkeys join in the drinking. So far 
as I could ascertain, the tank had not been 
cleaned for many years. The dirt and filth 


256 MY DITTY BAG 

around most of the temples is almost unbear¬ 
able. 

When I was a boy and went gunning it was 
always difficult to get near a crow—those birds 
being keen, wary and suspicious. In India the 
crows almost get under feet and you can easily 
get within a short distance of any of them. 
John Burroughs says that birds and animals fol¬ 
low instinct only and do not reason, being only 
creatures of habit, but some Indian crow some¬ 
how, sometime, did adopt different habits than 
those of his European and American cousins. 

The bull is sacred—the cows are very sacred, 
but while the bullocks are semi-sacred I saw the 
drivers of the carts beating the godlike bullocks 
quite freely. I asked my Hindu guide to ex¬ 
plain if it was good form to lick a god. He 
replied, “Bullock not all the same as cow,” and 
this was the only deference to the feminine 
sex that I saw in India. 

At six-thirty in the morning we left the hotel 
for the ghats, and in passing through one of 
the principal streets we saw such a sweet, simple, 
pastoral scene that I am tempted to describe it. 
On the covered front veranda of the residence 
of one of the interpreters, slept, or reclined on 


THE HINDUS 


257 


a slightly elevated bed, the head of the family; 
the household goat was quietly chewing his cud 
within a few feet of the bed; the family flock 
of chickens were actively running around and 
under the bed; the sanctified cow was just across 
the sidewalk; a few “miners,” a bird akin to 
the crow, flopped around on the floor; the god¬ 
like monkeys had not yet arisen, but would 
likely be around later. Now here was touching 
simplicity—combined with practical economy. 
No necessity for the Hindu owner to have an 
expensive country place—he had all the odors 
and filth of a badly kept barnyard right at 
home. I used to admire Walt Whitman’s lines in 
his “Blades of Grass,” when he says substan¬ 
tially, “Would that I could turn and live with 
animals, they are so placid, so self-contained 
they do not sweat and whine about their con¬ 
dition, etc.” After observing the Hindu’s inti¬ 
mate association with animals I have no desire 
to cultivate any closer relations with them. 

It is impossible for me to express sufficiently 
my admiration for the British rule in India. 
How a mere handful of people ten thousand 
miles away can successfully govern three or four 
hundred million people for nearly two centur- 


258 


MY DITTY BAG 


ies is almost inconceivable and worthy of admir¬ 
ation. The control of the British is a great 
blessing to the Hindus. It is awful to contem¬ 
plate what would happen if the British lost their 
supremacy in India. The contempt that the 
Mohammedans have for the Hindus is mani¬ 
fest to the most casual observer; the hatred of 
the Hindus for the Mohammedans is equally 
evident. The mosques erected on the remains 
of the Hindu temples are irritating to the in¬ 
ferior race. Law and order, and what comfort 
there is in India, is due largely to the capable 
control of the English and the justice for which 
they are noted. They understand the weakness 
of the natives and the complicated conditions 
in India, but taking everything into consider¬ 
ation, they are accomplishing an Herculean task 
with great credit and ability. In Rangoon, 
where the Buddhists are inclined to be turbu¬ 
lent, the British for several years, it is said, have 
had their cannon trained on the famous Shwe’- 
Dagon Pagoda, which is the pride of the Bur¬ 
mese, and the restraining influence of the big 
guns is greater than that of ten thousand troops. 

The latent possibilities of trouble in India are 
well realized, and the cunning and cruelty of 


THE HINDUS 


259 


the Hindus are shown in their faces and actions, 
—servile, cunning, superstitious, I find little to 
admire in this generation. Years ago I saw the 
New Guinea cannibals at close range. I have 
been among the South Sea Islanders, the New 
Zealand Maoris, and the Zulu Kaffirs. Many 
of these people have never had a chance in the 
world, but with the exception of the cannibals 
I found them all more worthy of respect than 
the Hindus. My pity for the poverty and suf¬ 
fering of these people was more than offset by 
my contempt. They are cowardly, supersti¬ 
tious, lacking the sympathy and cheerfulness of 
the Japanese, Filipinos, or the Malays. We 
think the Filipinos incapable of self-govern¬ 
ment. It will be centuries before the Hindus 
are as well qualified as the Filipinos to govern 
themselves, and India was the cradle of civ¬ 
ilization. The inhabitants are educated com¬ 
pared with the people of many other countries. 
The English have spent millions for educational 
institutions, but to little avail. I recognize the 
loyalty and soldier-like qualities of the Gurkhas 
and Sikhs, and I am sure that the Moham¬ 
medans are superior to the Buddhists, but I 
write of what I have seen and read of the Bur- 


260 


MY DITTY BAG 


mese, Bengalese and Benares natives. I gave a 
dollar once for missionary work in India. I 
hereby formally repent, and never will repeat 
my offense. I would sooner subscribe to a fund 
to melt the polar icebergs so far as obtaining 
practical results is concerned. Let us give our 
money to assist our fellow citizens of African 
descent; let us aid the foreigners in New York 
—we may make Christians and good citizens out 
of these people, but the Hindus—Selah. 

With my well-known proclivity for religious 
literature I bought a book on Benares, by the 
Rev. C. Phillips Cape—a chaplain, and later 
for many years a prominent missionary in India. 
I find myself in accord with the contempt this 
author manifests for the Hindus, and with some 
of his sentiments on the missionary efforts. I 
venture to make several quotations, with due 
credit to the author. 

“Benares has more idols than inhabitants, 
notwithstanding that the city has over two hun¬ 
dred thousand inhabit an ts.” 

In 1799, Mr. Davies, Magistrate at Benares, 
defended successfully his home and family 
against more than two hundred natives. He 
was armed only with a spear. This fact is 


THE HINDUS 


261 


recorded on the outside of a large house belong¬ 
ing to the Maharajah of Benares. I infer the 
British gave the marble slab for the record, and 
hinted gently that the inscription would have 
their approval. The author does not praise the 
bravery of the noble Hindu. 

“We may, however, frankly confess that con¬ 
verts are seldom won from Islam,” page 104. 
This confirms a similar statement made to me 
by a missionary in Cairo ten years ago. 

“The ‘Dorns’ are very low caste, and are 
engaged as scavengers and burners of the dead. 
When these people come to us for baptism their 
motives are not unmixed—they desire to flee 
from hunger and oppression—think the mission¬ 
ary can help them, that he has bread enough 
and to spare.” Now it is quite plausible that 
the good missionary can pick up a few thousand 
converts from the classes mentioned. 

Rev. Mr. Cape stated that there were eighty- 
two thousand deaths in one week from plague. 

“One day, in my own house, a low-caste man 
refused to lift a heavy piece of matting because 
a lower-caste man was touching it at the other 
end.” 

“A missionary found a lad starving in a village 


262 


MY DITTY BAG 


in famine time. No one was helping him, and 
he was afraid to ask for help. He was a Hindu, 
and they were Hindus, but he belonged to an¬ 
other village; he was Brahman, and they were 
all low-caste folk.” 

“An old man was dying on the banks of the 
Ganges. He was lying prone on the ground, 
weak with age and a dreadful disease. No one 
moved to help him. He was a man of high 
caste, and they feared to approach him. He 
might have cursed them had they touched him.” 

After four or five thousand years the Hindus 
have evolved this wonderful “caste” system. 
Oh, what a people—and they have such inscrut¬ 
able, mysterious minds. They cradled theoso¬ 
phy, and some of them even have vague ideals 
—but to me they are uninteresting. Perhaps 
I must cultivate a better mental attitude. I 
like to be charitable, tolerant and sympathetic, 
but the Buddhists have chased me off my res¬ 
ervation, and I am strong for the good old 
hymn, “Where every prospect pleases, and only 
man is vile.” 

The author knew his India. If I had time I 
could fill a volume on this subject, but it is late 
—so good night. 


XXVI 

Cruise Letters Continued 

March 7, 1925. 
the road to and from 
Kandy we often met ele¬ 
phants, and at night when 
returning home after a day’s 
work it was quite common 
to see these elephants 
carrying quite a large piece 
of timber as firewood for 
their drivers—this privi¬ 
lege presumably being one of the prerogatives 
of the mahout. 

The Galle Face Hotel is among the best of 
those in the Far East. 

Ceylon is not far distant from Goa, the first 
European settlement in India, and you find fre¬ 
quent traces of Portuguese influence, and Portu¬ 
guese names are not uncommon. We saw sev¬ 
eral little Catholic churches and schools in 
among the cocoanut groves; and when I asked 
about the owners of the pigs that I saw running 
263 




264 


MY DITTY BAG 


around loose our chauffeur told us, in a most 
contemptuous tone, that they belonged to Cath¬ 
olics. A little farther up the East Coast at 
Malabar is found the remains of a Jewish col¬ 
ony of some ten thousand, who settled there 
A. D. 8, after the destruction of the second tem¬ 
ple. They were received with tolerance, and 
have kept their ancient traditions intact through 
these many centuries, although their numbers 
are greatly decreased, and the enervating cli¬ 
mate has weakened this hardy race. There are 
stone tables extant on which is engraved the 
proclamation of one of the Emperors of Mala¬ 
bar, giving these Jews special privileges. 

My letters home are hurriedly written, and 
I do not keep any copy of them, but I have an 
indistinct remembrance that I recently made 
some mild criticism of the Buddhists. Since 
then I am pleased to observe, as I always try 
to be fair in my criticism, I have found the 
Cingalese Buddhists are much superior to those 
whom we saw in Burmah. They are much 
cleaner, happier, and I think holier. The 
Temple of Buddha’s Tooth that we saw in 
Kandy was clean and attractive, the worshipers 
seemed more sincere and reverent, the priest 


CRUISE LETTERS CONTINUED 265 

was a courteous, educated gentleman; and 
had a fine library of old Buddhist manuscripts, 
written on the inside bark of the tehpot palm, 
that lasts hundreds of years; also many books 
on the Buddhist religion, written in Eng¬ 
lish and French. The priest read me several 
extracts from his religious books, and I cordially 
endorsed all the sentiments that he translated. 
He gave me his card written on palm bark, with 
the same kind of a long, sharp, steel pointed 
pen that his original manuscripts were written 
with. The pen or instrument makes sharp in¬ 
dentations, which are filled in with a com¬ 
pound, something similar to lamp black as a 
basis. This is rubbed down with a clean rag, 
and the writing remains clear and distinct. 

I could not refrain from referring to the dirt 
and superstition of the Bengalese and Burmese. 
The priest, who spoke perfect English, smiled 
with a rather superior air but courteous manner, 
and indicated that he thought I was not very 
polite. I appreciated his quiet rebuke, and 
gave a few extra rupees to his temple, and we 
saw a photograph of the famous tooth—but the 
original is exhibited only on rare ceremonial 
occasions. I left Ceylon with much more re- 


266 


MY DITTY BAG 


spect and reverence for the Buddhists than I 
ever had before. 

I was always very desirous of visiting Co¬ 
lombo, and my expectations were more than 
realized. With the possible exception of Java, 
Ceylon is undoubtedly the most fertile island in 
the world. I know of no country that has such 
rich luxuriant trees, shrubs, plants and flowers, 
and the unusually good agricultural land is 
everywhere evidenced. The tea and rubber 
plantations were flourishing, and in the beauti¬ 
ful botanical gardens we saw the nutmeg, cinna¬ 
mon and clove trees—all with fruit. At this 
season of the year Colombo has a very good 
climate, and, while the thermometer registered 
in the early nineties, there was a good circula¬ 
tion of fresh, invigorating air. 

Captain Brown, of the Laconia , had a fine 
high-powered French automobile loaned him, 
and he invited me to go with him on one of the 
most beautiful and interesting trips conceivable. 
We left early in the morning and rode about 
one hundred miles to Kandy by an indirect 
route. The scenery was grand and beautiful, 
the near-by mountains were seven thousand feet 
high, and we made a constant succession of 


CRUISE LETTERS CONTINUED 267 

curves looking over fertile valleys and up 
heavily wooded mountains, frequently crossing 
a clear, rushing river. We passed through many 
tea and rubber plantations. The tea shrubs are 
only two or three feet high, with strong thick 
roots, partly above ground. The recently in¬ 
creased prices for tea and rubber have made 
Ceylon very prosperous. For a hundred-mile 
automobile ride I give the Columbia River 
Boulevard first mention. The wonderful roads 
and scenery around Rio de Janeiro are a close 
second—the Corniche Road from Nice to Monte 
Carlo is a gem, but this Ceylon drive is easily 
in the same class as the famous drives just 
named. I can imagine that there are auto¬ 
mobile roads around the harbor of Sydney, N. S. 
W., that are unsurpassed, but automobiling was 
unknown when I was last there. Our three days 
in Ceylon were, in many respects, the most 
interesting and enjoyable that we have had. 

It seems fitting to comment on the modesty of 
the Hindus as well as on that of all of the 
Orientals whom we have seen. We have wit¬ 
nessed typical dances in Japan, Formosa, 
Manila, Java, Rangoon and Calcutta, and they 
are all tame compared with the dancing in most 


268 


MY DITTY BAG 


of our American clubs. To be sure I only 
watched the Javanese two hours, and they may 
have got wound up later, but when I left there 
was the same weird, monotonous music of the 
gammelong, or native band, as when they 
started, and the slow decorum of the dancing 
was as unobjectionable as the dancing I saw 
in Seville when the boys dance before the high 
altar. There is a tremendous contrast between 
the modest Oriental dancing and the dances you 
see in Cairo and Constantinople. 

There is more exposure in the surf at Atlantic 
City in the summer time than we saw at Ben¬ 
ares, and the Hindus seem adepts at bathing 
in their clothes. I have not seen any of the leer¬ 
ing, suggestive looks in India that are so com¬ 
mon in large cities in more civilized countries. 
Male modesty is even noticeable, and while this 
quality in both sexes is so apparent, so far as I 
know it has not been commented upon by 
writers or observers. I confirmed my impres¬ 
sions by several competent authorities who 
related several anecdotes illustrating their 
experiences. 

Tomorrow we start for the Taj Mahal, and I 
shall not attempt any description of this noted 


CRUISE LETTERS CONTINUED 


269 


building. Like Senator Pratt, I may say “me 
too,” but if I am disappointed I shall say naught, 
and I shall not try to gild the rose if my expec¬ 
tations are realized. We have two special trains 
for Agra and Delhi, and live in the cars for five 
nights—a hard trip, and one I would omit if I 
ever expected to return to India, or if I were 
not so anxious to see the famed memorial of 
Shah Jehan. 


XXVII 

Delhi, Agra and Bombay 

March 10, 1923. 

T is worthwhile to journey to 
India for the privilege of 

visiting Delhi and Agra 

alone, even if the beautiful 
Taj Mahal were not at Agra. 

I was surprised at the 
extent and magnificence of 
the so-called forts at Delhi 
and Agra, containing many 
of the palaces, mosques and tombs of the Mo¬ 
hammedan regime. The Pearl Mosque is a 
wonderful structure, and the simplicity and 
strength of the Mohammedan architecture 

aroused my admiration. I always regarded the 
riches and power of the Mogul Emperors as an 
Oriental romance, but I found that their splen¬ 
dors had not been exaggerated. They had many 
commendable qualities which were proof of 

their executive ability and bravery, and Shah 
270 




DELHI, AGRA AND BOMBAY 271 

Jehan was one of the great builders of the world. 

Notwithstanding my previous statement I 
cannot refrain from paying a brief tribute to 
the wonderful Taj Mahal, with its majestic 
pearliness. Even Pierre Loti with his great lit¬ 
erary ability was unable to do the Taj Mahal 
justice. I could exhaust all the applicable adjec¬ 
tives that I know of and yet not express my 
enthusiastic admiration. Ferguson, the noted 
English architectural writer, said that this is the 
most beautiful sepulchre in the world. To me 
it was the most beautiful building I ever saw, 
and the surroundings were perfect. A visit to 
the Taj Mahal is an event that will always be 
indelibly impressed on the memory. 

Again I wish to offer tribute to the British. 
In India the British Government maintains “rest 
houses” for the accommodation of travelers 
where hotels would not pay. These are usually 
conveniently situated, with consideration for 
comfort, quiet and scenery. We stopped at one 
for light refreshments. It was neat, pretty, and 
well kept; the rooms were large, comfortable, 
and with good beds, all for fifty cents per night 
—seventeen cents in our money. The Com¬ 
plaint and Recommendation Book was open to 


272 


MY DITTY BAG 


all patrons, and the rest houses are inspected 
frequently by Government Officials. 

On going over the Fort at Delhi the great 
mutiny was brought frequently to my attention. 
Nine thousand British recaptured Delhi, being 
opposed by forty thousand native troops—many 
of whom were mutineers, English trained, and 
special instructions had been given them regard¬ 
ing the guns and defenses of Delhi, which were 
then used against the rightful owners. Nearly 
half of the British were killed or wounded, three 
English generals lost their lives, including the 
great John Nicholson, but the British “carried 
on” and regained their supremacy in India. 
The recapture of Delhi alone was a remarkable 
achievement. 

In Bombay, through a Parsee friend of Mr. 
Hart’s, we were personally conducted to the 
Towers of Silence, and witnessed a funeral pro¬ 
cession from a good point of view. Like most of 
my friends, I was quite familiar with the religion 
of the Parsees and their method of disposing of 
the dead, but I had never heard of the part that 
a dog plays in these ceremonies. Just before the 
funeral procession came to the gate a fine-look¬ 
ing, sleek black dog, somewhat larger than a 


DELHI, AGRA AND BOMBAY 273 

greyhound, which had been tied to a tree, was 
taken in leash by one of the attendants or under¬ 
priests and led to the gate to meet the corpse, 
and for a short time headed the procession. The 
dog is regarded as a symbol of faithfulness, and 
is supposed to guard the soul to the door of the 
towers. Our Parsee friend also said it was a 
common custom to admit the dog to the room 
where the corpse lay. White is their color for 
mourning, and in the procession many men held 
the corners of a white handkerchief as they 
walked. I do not know the significance of this 
custom. Women do not accompany the de¬ 
parted to the Towers of Silence. 

While the Parsees are considered the richest 
people in the world per capita, I was told that 
constant intermarriage was causing deteriora¬ 
tion in their vigor and mental process, and 
their numbers were steadily decreasing. More 
than half of the Parsees in the world live in 
Bombay. 

The Parsees are noted for their generosity 
and philanthropy, and our friend took me over 
one of their large hospitals, which would have 
delighted the heart of President McCague. It 
was so well kept, orderly, and had all the mod- 


274 


MY DITTY BAG 


ern appliances, and would have been a creditable 
institution anywhere. On the blackboard indi¬ 
cating the physicians in attendance I noticed 
the names of two women. I was told that they 
were very clever and well educated, and that 
some of the Parsees have quite a high reputation 
as surgeons. 

The Armenians control several of the large 
hotels in India. Their management is discour¬ 
teous and penurious, and the hotels that I saw 
were dirty and unattractive; and to judge from 
the reports from various travelers, the Arme¬ 
nians try to squeeze every cent that is possible 
out of their guests and are very unaccommodat¬ 
ing. The smaller hotels in India kept by the 
English are very neat and comfortable, and as 
good as could be expected in the smaller cities we 
visited. 

It seemed to me that ninety per cent of the 
automobiles used in the Orient and India are 
built in America, and, much to my surprise, 
nearly all the prominent manufacturers were 
represented. There was no great preponderance 
of Ford cars, as there is in Havana and in many 
other cities. The automobile is in constant use, 
and the rates are reasonable. I inferred that 


DELHI, AGRA AND BOMBAY 


275 


the American manufacturers will hold their 
prestige, and continue to have a large trade. I 
was greatly surprised at the number of bicycles 
used—not only by the natives but by Europeans 
and many women. Our Indian motorcycle was 
frequently in evidence, but the ordinary bicycle 
was of British manufacture. 

For the benefit of those of my friends who 
contemplate a trip around the world I might say 
that we have not had a rainy day since leaving 
Hongkong, and have not had it extremely hot 
since leaving Java. At Agra and Delhi over¬ 
coats were commonly worn by our passengers. 
In a few days we are going to be in the Red Sea, 
and possibly we shall then have the heat and 
discomfort which is usually the case on this 
body of water. 



XXVIII 

Cairo and the Egyptians 

March 10, 1923. 

HIS is my third visit to Egypt, at inter¬ 



vals of ten years, and I have seen many 


changes in this old Oriental city. In 
1902 it was quite common to see fine teams of 
highly bred horses with the saice, or runners, 
going ahead as fast as they could run, clearing 
the way for people of wealth and rank. These 
saice were clad in gaily colored uniforms and 
their appearance was very picturesque. We 
went to the Pyramids on a coach and four. 
Automobiles were practically unknown. I do 


276 









CAIRO AND THE EGYPTIANS 


277 


not remember that there was a street car sys¬ 
tem. Now the trains run regularly to the Pyra¬ 
mids, and the adjacent golf links. Fine horses 
are seldom seen, and automobiles are as com¬ 
mon as they are in any other large city. At 
Shepheard’s Hotel you could see Spanish 
grandees, Russian noblemen, German barons, 
and representatives of wealth of all the leading 
nations of the world. Now ninety per cent of 
the guests are American tourists, and rich Euro¬ 
peans are rarely seen. 

We are staying at the Heliopolis Palace Ho¬ 
tel—one of the finest hotels in the world; good 
architecture, excellent and rich decorations. The 
hall rug is reported to have cost thirty thousand 
pounds, the rooms are commodious and fur¬ 
nished in good taste, and as the hotel is situated 
fifteen minutes by automobile from the center 
of Cairo it is very quiet. The table, I think, is 
better than at Shepheard’s. 

A Belgian company built the Heliopolis 
Palace, and had a large real estate investment 
in the vicinity. They expected to secure permis¬ 
sion from the Government to develop a second 
Monte Carlo, and it is reported that the Khe¬ 
dive and some of his influential associates were 


278 


MY DITTY BAG 


interested financially, and the largest stock¬ 
holder was old Leopold, King of the Belgians. 
However, Lord Kitchener vetoed the proposed 
project, and the company lost a large amount 
of money. 

The greatest change that I notice in Cairo is 
in the people. Formerly servile—now they are 
saucy, or at least very independent; there is 
an evident air of discontent and dissatisfaction 
readily emphasized if an Egyptian feels free to 
talk, and there is much bitterness against the 
English. How long this flame will smoulder I 
cannot predict, but I should not be surprised 
any time to hear of serious trouble in Egypt. 
The British may abandon Egypt to the Egyp¬ 
tians. Whether they are ready for self-govern¬ 
ment I cannot say, but they want it. My old 
dragoman, Ahmed Ali, says the king, the gen¬ 
eral, and all the officials take their orders each 
day from the English ambassador, but I think 
Ali is prejudiced. You see many Egyptian sol¬ 
diers on the streets. They practice daily with 
their airplanes and they look as though they 
would fight. Judging from the sentiment of the 
people here with whom I talked, there is little 
sympathy for the Turks; dislike of the English, 


CAIRO AND THE EGYPTIANS 279 

and a strong desire for complete independence. 

I recall Pierre Loti’s confidence in the future 
greatness of the Egyptians, but I would not 
buy their bonds. 

Ali showed us with great pride a marble pillar 
in the Mosque of Omar, where there was the 
imprint of Mohammed’s hand, when he brought 
the pillar from Mecca to Cairo in one night. I 
said to Ali, “You don’t believe such damn non¬ 
sense do you?” Whereupon Ali replied with 
great solemnity, “Oh yes, Captain, I do. Did not 
your prophet and my prophet go to Heaven in 
a chariot of fire, why should you not believe 
that my prophet could fly with a marble pillar?”. 
I don’t know. Again I said to Ali, “I know you 
do not like the English or the Turks, I think 
you like the French.” With great dignity the 
fine-looking Arab replied, “I tell you truly, I 
speak by my God, we like the American better 
than any other people”—and before I could 
puff up with pride, he continued, “They spend 
more money here than all the other nations put 
together.” Many Europeans are not as frank, 
but they admire us for the same reason that the 
honest Ali does. 

The American University in Cairo is a most 


280 


MY DITTY BAG 


creditable innstitution—apparently very well 
managed, and likely to be of great future value 
for educational purposes. I was most favorably 
impressed with Dr. Watson as a man of force, 
ability and tact. I think he will succeed, and 
will deserve to do so. The present unpopu¬ 
larity of the English aids our university. 

The Zoological Garden here is justly cele¬ 
brated, and I think climatic conditions must be 
favorable, as the animals all seemed well and 
happy. There is a large and fine collection. I 
was always interested in the contention of John 
Burroughs—that animals have only instinct and 
never intelligence. I always supposed that a 
hippopotamus was particularly stupid. We saw 
one swimming about fifty feet away—only his 
eyes and ears out of water. The Arab keeper 
called to him by name, and in an ordinary tone 
of voice, when he quietly turned and came to 
the stone platform near where we were standing, 
opened his huge mouth and showed his cavern¬ 
ous throat, and wanted to be fed, after which the 
keeper quietly told him to “go away,” and he 
went promptly and obediently. This exhibition 
was repeated, and I think indicated intelligence. 

My travels in the Far East and revisiting 


CAIRO AND THE EGYPTIANS 281 

the Near East have confirmed my impressions 
of many years—that the Mohammedans are 
simple, sincere, and zealous in their belief, which 
is the religion best adapted to their dispositions, 
traditions, and social standard. As a rule they 
are honest, sober, just, and conform to their own 
code of morals, which code is good and well 
suited to their needs and inherited character¬ 
istics. It is likely that, as they become “civi¬ 
lized / 5 they will have to change some of their 
customs, and modify some of their beliefs, as 
we have done. There has been a tremendous 
change in dogmas and creeds, the Turkish 
women will probably go unveiled, but I can 
remember when St. Paul’s admonition to wives 
“to obey their husbands” was frequently quoted, 
and in our wedding service wives actually prom¬ 
ised to “obey.” Now they run for office, and go 
alone on world cruises. “The world do move.” 
* * * * 

After having seen most important parts of the 
civilized world I am naturally conscious of many 
of our shortcomings. I realize our conceit and 
intolerance, but I never return to the United 
States without being grateful for the wonderful 
blessings and opportunities that we enjoy. 


282 


MY DITTY BAG 


I am proud of being an American, and have 
great confidence in the good common sense of 
our people. May we cultivate charity, avoid 
extravagance, be satisfied to develop our own 
great country, adhere to the good, sound Ameri¬ 
can principles of our forefathers, and not be 
unmindful of the sentiment of the Recessional. 
























































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